The Island
by Theslowboxer
Summary: This is an AU Crossover between The Purge movies and Tom Clancy's The Division Video Game set on Vancouver Island with all OC Characters
1. Chapter 1 The Begining

**A/N Here it is. The much promised rewrite. As you may have noticed it's undergone a massive overhaul. It is now officially a Crossover fic with the Purge and Tom Clancy's The Division because I felt that it fit better that way. If you prefer the old version more IM me I still have it saved somewhere and can send you a copy if you want.**

**Chapter 1: The Island**

It's a funny thing, the difference between imagination and reality. You watch movies and play video games, where there is a large scale disaster and you think to yourself, hey, that would be kind of cool. It's an escape from the normal. You play out all these scenarios in your head of being a hero during the chaos of an evacuation. Maybe even setting yourself up for life while no one's looking.

The reality of a large scale evacuation is something very different entirely.

Chaos and fear was the best description for what Jack found himself immersed in. Going from house to house with his partner, ensuring that everyone got out. All the while they all knew that they were running out of time. He didn't want to leave anyone behind.

Perhaps, going back a bit would help put everything into context.

Two weeks ago, it was announced that the first confirmed case of smallpox since 1978 had been discovered in Port Hardy. By the time it was discovered, the entire population numbering 4000 in the town had been infected. Somehow the virus had mutated. This allowed it to not only bypass the standard government immunizations, but to still be highly contagious while incubating. The Prime Minister had immediately declared a state of emergency.

The funny thing about it was, you never actually saw someone who was sick. It was always a friend of a friend, or names of towns on the news. Each day began with watching reports of the virus spreading. Airports were locked down, and the ferries just never came back after making their runs to the mainland. The island had been quarantined. After the news reported that the first three private boats that tried to leave had been destroyed by the blockade set up by the Navy, people learned not to try again.

Then the order to be evacuated came. Finally, they had set up a system that would allow the healthy to be screened from the sick and removed from the island. That's where Jack came in.

MCpl Jack Hawkins was a reserve weapons technician in the Canadian Armed Forces. As a reservist, one of their main responsibilities was domestic emergencies. His unit, 32 Service Battalion, had been tasked with aiding in evacuating the nearby town of Saanich. Incidentally, as the highest ranking person in the section, he was in charge of this particular shit show. Upon arrival to the first suburb, it was clear that every one was at the tipping point. All it would take was one push, and the entire population would go to panic stations. The police were overwhelmed with trying to keep everyone calm.

Unfortunately, the tipping point was the two MSVS trucks stopping along the side of the street. As soon as people saw the big canvas topped cargo trucks, dripping water off their sides from the constant light rainfall, they started going nuts. They had watched the island slowly go to hell around them and were told they couldn't leave until the government came to get them. Well the government had come and they wanted out _now_. Before Jack could say anything to control the situation, there was a swarm of panicked people all trying to climb into the back of the truck. Jack was even forced to plant his boot and push on the chest of someone who had climbed up and tried to pull him out of the driver's seat. The man fell back onto the rain-soaked ground, and ran around to the back of the truck joining the clamour to get in. All the while, not even noticing the kick. Jack moved around to the back of the truck with his partner from the eight-man section. Looking to his right he saw Cpl Jessica Dunley. Jess was… well, tiny. That was the only word he could use for her. Coming in at barely 5'1" she had to look up to make eye contact. All it took between them was a quick nod by this point. This was the fourth suburb they had evacuated today. They knew that they were running out of time.

From the moment he had met her, he had liked her. Not in the way that everyone assumed however. She was married to a sergeant in the Canadian Scottish Regiment by the name of Chris Dunley. She was just this unstoppable bundle of energy. Jess liked to tease. She couldn't help it; it was just her nature. If there was an opportunity for her to turn something into a sexual joke you had better believe she would jump on it. Plus, she was adorable so she had that going for her. Everyone joked that the army had needed to make a new size of boot in order to find something that would fit her tiny feet. Watching her load her gear into the truck had been hilarious. Her ruck sack was literally almost as big as she was. However, if you tried to help her load it without her asking, she would rip your throat out through your asshole. She knew that she was small. She knew that the army would not be an easy career choice for her even if she was a clerk. She knew this going in, and was still determined to pull her own weight without help from anyone else. He was glad it was her that he was paired with today. She could be calm and collected while at the same time wouldn't take shit from anybody.

It had been passed on when they were called in that the last boat leaving the island would be at 1800, 6 PM to those unfamiliar with the 24 hour clock. Anybody still on the island after 6 PM, would be left there. Given how far away they were from the ship, over an hour with light traffic, the trucks would be leaving at 4 whether or not everyone was on board. It was a harsh reality that not everyone could be evacuated. The official quarantine set in at precisely 1830 Pacific Standard Time. So if the ship wasn't well clear of the Island before then, the Navy was required to sink it.

As they came around to the back of the truck, Jack wasn't sure that they would be able to get everyone out. As much as he wanted to he couldn't just drop the tailgate and let everyone crowd in on the benches built into the back. Everyone had to be screened first. Yelling did no good. Nobody heard him, or paid attention. They were all too busy trying to climb into the truck, over each other if they had to. Children were being passed over the heads of adults and some people were pushing even the children aside to try their luck with climbing into the back of the incredibly tall trucks. This needed to be stopped before someone was seriously hurt. Jack looked back at the Military Police that had come with them. His truck had been the first in but was quickly followed by the second and two Military Police cruisers. The MP simply nodded knowing what it was that Jack wanted. He drew his sidearm and fired three times into the air above his head. This had already needed to happen twice today. At the sound of the shot people screamed and ducked but they did stop clamoring which was what Jack wanted. He took the quick moment of silence as his opening.

"ALRIGHT LISTEN UP!" He was grateful to see everyone's heads turn towards him. "I know you all want to get out of here but we can't let anyone on to the trucks until you've been screened. It doesn't take long but the longer you stay out here the longer it takes. So I need everyone to return to their homes. We _will_ come for you. You _will not _be left behind. We don't have a lot of time however so if you want out of here you need to move RIGHT NOW!" As if the force of his last word was a bolt of lightning, everyone present jolted upright and then hurriedly shambled back towards their houses.

Once everyone had cleared away from the back of the trucks and hurriedly, if grudgingly made their way back to their houses Jack's team set to work. As they moved toward the houses, Jack had to curse his horrible sense of timing. He had only been on the island to oversee the final stages of a product release. You see, his name wasn't Jack Hawkins. Not really, anyway. While he preferred to be called Jack by his friends, his full proper name was Johnathan Montgomery Hawkings, CEO and founder of TAC-6 Industries. From an early age it was apparent that Jack was special. At 6 months old, he was speaking fluently. At age 2, with difficulty, he was reading Tolstoy. By age 3 where most kids were colouring on the walls, Jack was taking apart household electronics. After the third time his parents caught him carefully dismantling the VCR, they knew they had to give him every chance to succeed that they could. Graduating high school at age 12, Jack went on to attend and complete an undergraduate program in mechanical engineering. Bachelor's degree in hand, he then went on to become one of the youngest people to ever attend MIT. By the time he turned 18, he had attained a double master's degree in Mechanical engineering, and computer science.

Jack was always a tinkerer, an inventor, and growing up in a military family he knew how woefully inadequate the Canadian Forces body armour was. So with that in mind he sat down and cranked out a design for a new kind of plate carrier. To Jack, the design was the easy part. He knew it would sell. The hard part was getting people to invest. He quickly lost patience with the private sector after the third company in a row tried to buy the rights to the design from him. They all seemed to think that a 19 year old would see a check for five hundred thousand and jump up and down for joy. He knew how much his armour would be worth, and he wasn't going to let some private company make millions off of it while he was tossed a couple of bucks for his trouble.

He was sitting in a bar in Toronto complaining to a friend of his, about the arrogant asshole he had just talked to at AR5000.

"Well why don't you just make the damn thing yourself?" his friend Tommy as they scanned their surroundings for interested females.

"Well Tommy, where the fuck am I going to get the money for that? I'm kind of living pay check to pay check here." He said as he took a pull from his bottle of Molson Canadian.

"Look it's simple man. You designed this fucking thing for the Canadian Forces right? Go online and register a company name. then once you have that approved, go to a bank and file for a small business loan. That should give you enough capital to at least produce a prototype that you can take to their acquisitions people." Tommy had to laugh at Jack's stunned expression.

"That…. That did not occur to me. WHY DID THAT NOT OCCUR TO ME?"

"Maybe you're not that smart?" Tommy had to chuckle at Jack's sudden glare over the top of his beer bottle. The next twenty minutes were spent discussing possible names for his company. Several ideas were tossed about each of them being discarded. Jack knew that he wanted to make tactical gear. He wasn't looking to make things that would only be purchased by airsoft kids who wanted to look cool. He wanted to make gear that would keep soldiers safe. Body armour was what he wanted to be doing. With that in mind he kept trying to find a way to incorporate the word Tactical into the name somewhere. Right now the front runner was Hawkings Tactical. Somehow though it seemed too cliché. That form of name had been used far too often. He needed something different. Something that would portray professionalism while still being easy to brand.

"Wait dude I got it!" Jack perked up when he heard the excitement in Tommy's voice. "How many companies did you walk out from?"

Wrenching his mouth in disgust Jack replied "I terminated negotiations with six separate business entities"

"Ok Spock, with that in mind, how about TAC-6?"

It was born that night in a hipster bar lit by Christmas lights and covered in movie posters from the forties in downtown Toronto. The company that would make Johnathan Hawkings the first name in personal armour technology.

Once Jack was home he looked up a website that would allow him to register TAC-6 as a federally licensed business. He passed out halfway through filling out the form. When he woke up however, nursing his hangover, he finished filling out the online paperwork and submitted it.

That wasn't the end of it of course but within three months everything was up and running. He had his prototypes for testing and by his twentieth birthday had worked out a deal with the procurement officer for CANSOFCOM to supply vests for the Joint Task Force 2 teams and the Canadian Special Operations Regiment.

Three years and 16 billion dollars later, John found himself depressed. His entire life had been taken up by his business. He was 23 and couldn't remember the last time he'd taken a day for himself. It was when he was walking into some shitty coffee bar on his way into his office that he bumped into a familiar face. Tommy was walking out carefully balancing an overloaded coffee tray. Correction, 2nd Lieutenant Thomas Anderson. His best friend from college had joined the military.

"Tommy? Is that actually you?" he couldn't believe it.

"Jack? Holy shit man it's been years! I suppose there's no point in asking how you've been because it's plainly obvious. Seems I can't turn on the news without seeing some new story about the real life 'Iron Man'".

"God I hate that nickname." Jack moaned under his breath "Tony Stark at least had a sense of humor". Breaking off from his internal bitch-fest, he looked back up to Tommy "So you joined the army huh? Got to say I did not see that coming. Besides I thought I made damn sure you didn't need to work ever again."

Aside from the monthly checks he sent to his parents, He had set Tommy up with a 10% royalty from the TAC-6 name. He knew for a fact that because of one drunken night in a shitty bar Tommy was raking in the dough without ever having to lift a finger.

"You're right, I don't need to work but I want to. So I Joined the reserves as a logistics officer. It keeps me busy for a couple nights a week. Speaking of which-" He looked down at his watch with a panicked look "Oh Fuck! Sorry to cut this short dude but I'm going to be late." With that said Tommy ran out the door trying and mostly succeeding in not spilling the coffees everywhere.

After getting his own coffee and bagel Jack continued on with his day but it got him to thinking. The reserves might be a good idea. There was nothing saying he couldn't join if he wanted to. The only problem would be if the media got wind of it. He would have to create a new name for it. Not different enough to be charged for falsifying enlistment forms but different enough that the casual reporter might not think anything of it if they saw his name. Three days later in a pair of jeans and a brown zip up hoodie, forgoing one of his Armani suits in the name of being inconspicuous, he walked into the Canadian Forces Recruiting Centre.

Flash forward another three years, four promotions, and a transfer to Victoria British Columbia and he found himself in Saanich helping with an evacuation. They had already cleared about three houses on their side of the street and were moving into the fourth.

As Jack was moving up to the door a commotion behind them drew his attention. The other teams police escort was arguing with a very aggravated couple who were insisting on being allowed onto the trucks without screening. This was absolutely against their orders as it could risk spreading the virus to the mainland and the MP's were trying to explain this to the couple. Apparently the husband had a cough but it didn't matter because didn't they know who he was? His taxes paid their salary and with one phone call he could have them all fired. Pretty much every possible thing you could say to piss off a cop. Never mind the fact that they were all military and therefore federal employees and out of the arrogant asshole's reach. Jack had to chuckle privately to himself. None of them may know it but he could buy every single one of the expensive houses in this suburb and none of his bank accounts would even notice. Suddenly the argument changed dramatically when instead of yelling the man lunged for the officer's weapon. His bottle blonde wife who up until then and been nodding along and yelling agreement with her husband produced a steak knife from under her expensive rain jacket and lunged at the officer's partner. In a flash, Jack's own police escort was racing over to assist. Jack's hand twitched toward his own sidearm but left the Browning Hi-power in it's holster. It was made very clear to them by the organization that was handling the evacuation that they were there as bodies on the ground, NOT a fighting force. This was why they were not issued C7's and told not to wear any of their fighting order. All they wore was their uniforms, berets, raingear, a sidearm for worst case self defense, and the neon green safety vest they had been issued by the relief organization. There were teams out there for security as they were told. The Canadian Scottish Regiment were out in full kit with all their toys in case of armed rioters. The Organization they worked for was a strange one. It had only popped up in the days following the outbreak. No one had heard of them until then. CERA, the Canadian Emergency Response Agency was supposedly Canada's version of the American FEMA and had apparently always existed even though Jack could find no trace of them. They were willing to fund the evacuation however and the Canadian government had leapt at the offer.

By the time Jack had finished his internal monologue, the MP's had subdued the overly self entitled couple, quickly screened them, and were marching them over to their squad cars to begin processing them. Jack knew his orders were not to enter a residence without their police escort but their deadline was drawing closer with every passing second and he simply didn't have time to wait for them. Looking over at Jess he found her already looking back at him. He didn't even have to say a word She just nodded to him, her brown hair pulled up into a bun bobbing behind her head as she did so. With that unspoken agreement they moved up to the next door.

Stepping up onto the porch, Jack knocked loudly and announced. "CERA Forces! Open up for screening and evacuation!"

This was the first time he had actually had to knock. Usually people were waiting for him and opened the door before he was within five feet. Everyone wanted to leave. Everyone except these people apparently because a deep male voice replied with "Uh..no thanks man, we're good here."

This actually made Jack take a step back. This was a first, everyone wanted to leave. Well regardless his orders had been if they are healthy, they're leaving whether they want to or not.

"I'm sorry sir, but there's no choice in this. I need you to open the door. Everyone's leaving."

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear. FUCK. OFF."

Well Jack had tried being diplomatic about it, but he had his orders. Unless one of their family was sick, anyone who was healthy had to leave. He took a step back, heaved, and kicked the door right below the door knob. The door slammed open with the sound of wood splintering and metal rending.

As soon as he stepped through Jack knew why they didn't want to open the door. Directly on the floor in front of him was an elderly couple. Their hands and feet were bound, and their throats had been cut. Judging by the size of blood puddle beneath them, a puddle that Jack was now standing in, they had been dead for at least a few hours. Directly across from him at the head of what he assumed were her grandparents, a girl was sitting with her arms and legs bound a chair. She had a dish towel tied around her face as a gag and her makeup was streaming down her face. Jack said girl because she couldn't have been any older than maybe sixteen with long brown hair and green eyes. That was all Jack noticed before his hand jerked to his side arm. He had never had to draw a weapon on someone before but that wasn't going to stop him from shooting whoever had done this. He never got the chance. Before his weapon had cleared the holster, he felt a blinding pain in the back of his head. After that everything went black and he felt nothing for a long time.

Pain. That was Jack's entire world. He was floating in a sea of blackness with nothing around him except for pain. He became aware of the fact that he possessed a head, when he was able to determine the pain's source. Hands and arms sprung into being when he attempted to hold his head to stop the pain and found that he couldn't move them. The rest of his body was revealed in much the same manner. After what seemed like a lifetime, but was probably only two or three minutes, he was able to determine that he was laying on his front with his hands tied behind his back, and his feet secured at the ankles. Next came what might have been the hardest thing he had ever had to do in his life. He opened his eyes.

The light burned in like the light of a thousand suns being condensed into two distinct laser beams searing through to his soul. He wanted to scream but didn't know how. He shut his eyes against the pain. Of course even then the pain was excruciating. It wasn't until he finally registered someone trying to call his name weakly that he forced himself to open his eyes and take stock of his surroundings. With his sight came memory.

He was still in the house. That much was clear. He was bound hand and foot in the same living room lying in a puddle of someone else's blood. Panic struck him when he remembered Jess. Trying to look around was painful but he did it anyway. There she was right next to him also covered in someone else's blood looking at him anxiously.

"What the fuck happened?" Jack mumbled or at least that's what he thought he mumbled. What actually came out was something more like "whadda fuuuu-OOOOWWWWW- happpun" When he saw her look of confusion he coughed and spit out a mouthful of sticky coagulated blood and repeated his question again, clearly this time.

"Well from what I can tell… We were hit over the head with something. Looks like everyone else is dead." Jess managed to mumble out. "Our side arms are gone too."

Dammit she was right. Jack noticed that they had taken the whole goddamn holster with them.

"Did you get a look at who did it?" he wasn't really all that hopeful that she had.

"No I think they hid behind the door. Had to have been at least two of them."

Jack grunted in agreement and set to work trying to free himself. His hands were bound with duct tape from what he could feel. That was lucky he could still feel his knife clipped to the inside of his pocket so there was that.

"Jess can you get to my knife? It's inside my right pocket and I can't reach it." Jack had to try and shimmy closer to her and roll onto his side so that they were back to back. The sticky half dried blood on the floor made it extremely difficult however. He could feel it pulling at his clothing as he tried to move. Finally, and with great difficulty he managed to move close enough to Jess' reaching hands that she was able to dig his knife out of his pocket. Opening it was another matter as it too was covered in the congealed bodily fluid.

"Ugh God if I never have to see this much blood again it'll be too soon." She complained as she finally managed to flip the blade out behind her back.

"Just be glad it's not ours, now hurry up. I have no idea how long we've been out for. There's still a chance we can make the evacuation."

Bitching the entire time, Jess finally managed to cut the tape holding her hands together. Bringing them around to her front she winced as blood was allowed to flow back into the starved limbs. She then turned towards Jack and smoothly sliced the tape holding his hands together. After he managed to sit up and they cut the tape from their legs they looked around the room and immediately wished they hadn't. The elderly couple was where they had been when Jack came in. That hadn't changed. The girl was there too still tied to the chair. She unfortunately had changed. Her gag was gone for one thing, though she didn't need it anymore. So were her pants. It was obvious that she had been raped before someone took the time to calmly and smoothly slit her throat. The cut was deep and from what Jack could see had been done with an exceedingly sharp blade. That suspicion was confirmed when he spotted the bloody straight razor on the ground next to her body. Her head was slumped to the side, her eyes were open, and the entire front of her body was stained red except for where the blood had started to dry and turned brown. Sighing, Jack walked over to the girl's body and cut her free of the now useless restraints. Picking her up he was shocked at how light she was, and he placed her on the couch. He took the time to close her eyes and then covered her body with a nearby blanket.

"Ok, let's get the fuck out of here" Jack said as he straightened from the girl's body.

"Uh Jack…" Jess said with an uncertain tone in her voice. "Look at the time"

"Fuck" was the only word that Jack could utter when he looked at the clock above the fireplace. It read 7:32 PM. The Island had been under quarantine for over an hour now. It was over. They were trapped.

When they stepped outside, the silence was deafening. Since it was the middle of winter, the sun had already gone down long ago. The steady ever present rain continued to mist down onto to them and wash the dried blood off of their faces. As Jack looked down he could see the puddle beneath his feet turning red in the light of the street lamps. Clothing and personal belongings were scattered in the street. He hoped that they had gotten everyone out in time. From the silence surrounding them, it seemed to be true. For this neighborhood anyway.

He spotted two familiar lumps out near where the trucks had been parked. Walking closer he was able to confirm that both his and Jess' rucksacks were sitting against the curb mostly protected from the rain by an overhanging tree. It would seem they hadn't completely given up on them being alive. He didn't blame them for leaving. He would have done the same. They hadn't had any other choice given the situation. So they tossed out their rucks and hoped for the best.

As they shouldered their rucks Jess turned to him and asked "So what are we gonna do now?"

Jack knew what the obvious answer was. It was hard though. He had spent three years carefully cultivating this separate identity and he was loathe to throw it all away now.

"Alright listen. I have something I need to tell you. I also have a plan but first it's late, and we're exposed out here." Gesturing to one of the nearby houses he said "Let's spend the night in one of these places and in the morning we'll hike back to the armouries."

Suiting action to words he shouldered his pack and started walking towards the nearest house. He knew he had to get them off the street. With the evacuation gone, all emergency services went with it. Police were gone, and with them the requirement to obey the law. Jack figured that by this time tomorrow it would be full blown anarchy. If it wasn't already.

The house they took shelter in would provide them with the safety they needed. First thing they needed to do was check to make sure it was clear. Then, they had to secure all the entrances. After that maybe they would be able to take off their blood soaked clothing and take a shower. It might be their last chance for a long time.

It didn't take them long to clear and lock the house. The deadbolts looked sturdy enough to hold, and if they didn't then they would make one hell of a noise when they gave out. Jack located a bedroom upstairs that had a door lock on it with an attached bathroom.

"Alright we're going to sleep here in shifts, four hours each. There's a bathroom with a shower in there. Might as well get cleaned up while we have a chance. We should be safe here for tonight." He didn't need to say safe from what. Society had been on the tipping point for the last week. The evacuation was the last push it needed to send it over the edge. "You can take the first shower. Throw your clothes out to me and I'll try and clean them as best I can." She just nodded to him and grabbed a towel out of the nearby linen closet and walked into the bathroom closing the door behind her. Jack started removing his own bloodstained uniform. He winced as the dried blood pulled at his skin. Finally stripped down to his boxers he examined himself in the mirror. He stood at 5'9 and weighed 180 lbs of lean muscle. He had always had a stocky frame, with wide shoulders and rib cage. His family had always had a predisposition to carry extra weight around the middle but he had managed to stave it off with a religious work out regimen. He ran 5 km every morning, with a half marathon thrown in every now and then. He regularly practised martial arts, changing styles every two years. Since he turned 16 he had become proficient in Boxing, Escrima, Kenjutsu, Wing Chung, and Krav Maga. He was by no means a master at any of them but he was able to mix them together to create his own sparring style.

Right now his body was covered in sticky blood and gore. The rain had managed to wash a fair amount of it off his face but his sandy brown hair that had previously been styled in a captain America style side part was now a matted and tangled mess of blood and dirt. Summed up, he looked like shit.

The sound of the bathroom door opening distracted him as Jess tossed out her clothing. Jack caught a quick flash of bare leg before the door closed. Chuckling and admonishing himself for trying to check out a married woman he picked up her soiled clothes and took them to the laundry and tossed them in with his. He wrapped a towel around his waist and added his own boxers to the pile and poured in twice the amount of soap and started the machine. He went back to the bedroom and sat down on the bed to wait for the shower by the light of the small bedside lamp. It was the only light he would allow as it was easily concealable from the window.

He didn't have to wait long as Jess soon stepped out of the shower wrapped in a towel and wringing out her hair with another.

"Shower's all yours."

"Thanks Jess."

His shower was longer than he intended it to be. The water felt good against the throbbing in the back of his head. As he stood under the hot stream, he watched the red stained water flow into the drain. He was running his plan over in his head constantly repeating it, trying to find any flaw that he could. Unfortunately, the flaws were numerous and unavoidable. Too many things were capable of going wrong. It was too easy to die trying for Jack to be comfortable with it. Unfortunately, He didn't have any other choice but to continue with it.

The sound of the bathroom door opening broke him out of his reverie.

"Hey Jack?"

He poked his head out around the frosted glass of the shower stall to see her standing in the doorway. She was wearing fresh underwear and a long OD t-shirt that covered her to her hips. Her long brown hair looked almost black from the dampness as it hung over her left shoulder. He kind of hated Chris sometimes.

"What's up Jess?" he could tell she was on the edge. There was going to be a breakdown eventually but she was holding it together for now.

She moved into the bathroom and sat down on top of the toilet seat. Jack ducked back into the shower and tried to wash the blood out of his hair.

"Do you think Chris made it?" The pain in her voice was evident.

"I'm sure Chris got out in time. He was stationed closer to the ferries than we were." Whether that made her feel any better or not he had no idea but from the little he knew of women, probably not.

"I'm never going to see him again am I?"

Jack almost stepped out of the shower to confront her but stopped himself when he remembered his state of undress.

"Now you listen to me. I don't care how hopeless everything seems. You will see him again. I promise you. I will do everything in my power to ensure that. You. Will. See. Him. Again." There was a significant pause for a minute where Jack could hear her sniffing back tears.

"Thanks Jack. I don't know why but that actually made me feel a little better. Now what was it you said you had to tell me? Something about a plan?"

This was the part that Jack was dreading. Having to explain his background to her. He knew it had to be done though so he finished showering and asked her to hand him a towel. He stepped out of the shower and looked in the mirror. He needed a shave. He knew he was just stalling but he didn't care. Unfortunately for Jack, Jess took the decision out of his hands.

"Jack, tell me what the fuck is going on!"

So he did.

He explained everything, who he was, what he did for a living, and why he had kept it all a secret. It took about half an hour to get through everything. When he was done he leaned back against the wall, still wrapped in his towel, folded his arms and waited for her reaction.

She looked at him like he had just told her he was Santa Claus. Half awed and half disbelieving.

"Ok, Mr. Billionaire. Was there supposed to be a plan somewhere in there?"

Jack couldn't help it. He laughed. A deep belly laugh. Here he was stressing out over telling her this and she just brushed it off like it wasn't important. It was intensely amusing.

"Ok fine, here's the plan. We spend the night here. In the morning we hike back to the armouries. It's not too far, maybe 2K we can easily make that in about twenty minutes. After that we load up on weapons and ammo, grab a vehicle and head up island. I have a cabin out there where we can be safe. I guess cabin is a bit of a misnomer. It's more of a compound, but it's highly secured."

"That's your plan? Go to the Armouries, steal a truck and drive off into the sunset?" While her words were sharp her face told a different story. Jack could see that Jess was considering it.

"I mean… It's not the best plan but…. Alright fuck it, we don't exactly have a lot of options. I'm in."

Jack smiled. That was all there was to do.

After their discussion in the bathroom, they moved back into the main room and Jack started digging through his rucksack in order to find a clean pair of Boxers. Jess politely turned her head when he dropped his towel and pulled them on. After that Jack volunteered to take the first watch and sent her to bed. There was no way he was leaving the room so he sat down in an armchair near the corner and continued trying to iron out his plan.

About forty minutes and a break to change over the laundry later he was once again jerked out of his thoughts by the sound of Jess' voice.

"Jack… could you come here please. I don't want to be alone right now."

Sighing quietly to himself, he got up and climbed into the King-sized bed behind her. He could understand not wanting to be alone. He shimmied in behind her and laid his head down on a pillow. He knew there was no way he could fall asleep right now so he wasn't worried about it.

He was surprised to feel Jess' arm reach behind her and grab his wrapping it around her mid section so that her breasts rested on top of his forearm. He could feel her body shuddering as she tried to hold back the tears. Suddenly she whirled around in his arms and buried her face in his shoulder. She let everything go. All the pain and worry she was feeling she spilled out into his OD T-shirt. He knew it wasn't because it was him there. It was because Chris wasn't and he was the closest she could get. He was okay with that. After a while of pain wracked sobs she finally tired herself out and fell asleep. He continued to hold her.

Jack awoke to the sound of a loud crunch from somewhere in the house. Instantly he was awake.

"Jack, what's going on?" He could feel Jess still wrapped in his arms. Her hair was tickling his face as he tried to get his bearings.

"I don't know, stay here." Of course he would fall asleep. He was lucky they were still alive right now. Anything could have happened. Judging by the faint predawn light coming in through the window they had slept for about ten hours. It most be close to six am by now.

Jack climbed out of bed and silently padded to the door. He could hear voices coming from downstairs.

"See what the fuck they got in this place. I want food, I want weapons, I want drugs, and I want booze."

The voice was not one Jack recognized as he crept to the railing at the top of the stairs. From this vantage point he could see into the entranceway and living room. There were five men arrayed below him. All five were dressed in rough work clothes that consisted of things like wool shirts, paint stained jeans and boots, and torn jackets.

What wasn't standard however were the weapons they carried and the large amount of blood covering the front of one of them. The one covered in blood had what looked like a M1911 .45 tucked into the front of his pants and a large blood stained machete in his hands. Another had a hunting rifle slung over one shoulder and a bottle of expensive looking tequila in his hands. One man held a bat, one held an axe and the last one held a snub nosed .38 special loosely in his grip.

He knew he was going to have to play this carefully. If he still had his sidearm, he would have considered engaging them but given that they were un armed and outnumbered he decided that discretion being the better part of valor he was going to get Jess up and try and sneak out the bedroom window. Just as he decided this and began slowly backing away, a floorboard he was standing on decided to sing him the song of its people. It gave off a loud squeak which had every bleary eye below him focused directly onto his position.

"Hey it's you again! Come on down and join the party! Where's that cute piece of ass you had with you?" The man with the machete said.

Clearly this was one of the men who had hit him back at the other house. Well he didn't know it but he had just died.

"She's dead. You hit her too hard. I think her brain hemorrhaged internally." Jack said as flatly as he could while walking down the stairs towards him.

"Aww that's a shame. She looked like she would'a been a lot'a fun in the sack. That Jailbait earlier wasn't bad but I had to wait my turn for her. Nah, that soldier bitch woulda been nice."

It took everything Jack had not to lunge for the man's throat. He knew though that with patience he would kill him. Jack continued to draw closer until he was stopped by the leaders raised Machete.

"Ah that's far enough. Now on your knees, fucker." Jack stared him in the eye refusing to even so much as blink. It had the desired effect.

He could see the others mans face twist with rage as he punched Jack in the stomach. He had been expecting the hit, however and was able to move with it. He dropped to his knees, only partially faking the pain.

"Haha now im gonna kill you like I should have back then. With this guys."

Jack could see out of the corner of his eyes that the main man wasn't even looking at him anymore but at the faces of his buddies as he gloated.

Jack lunged.

He delivered a sharp jab straight to the man's trachea. It was intensly satisfying to feel the cartilage crunch under his knuckles. Without stopping his momentum, he used the jump upwards to get around behind him and plant a foot in the back of the other man's knee. As he was forced into a kneeling position Jack wrapped his left arm all the way around the man's neck until he grabbed his right shoulder. He then did the same thing with his right arm until he had the man's chin caught in the crook of his elbow. All he did then was pull his arms apart. His neck snapped with a sound of a dry twig breaking. The entire exchange lasted about four seconds.

Before the body had a chance to fall Jack reached down and drew the 1911 from the front of his waistband. Praying to any god he could think of that it was loaded, he raised the gun to the man with the .38 who by now was aiming at him. With a pull of the trigger the old warhorse roared and blew the top quarter of snub nose's head off. Whirling, he then shot the man with the hunting rifle in the chest before he could chamber a round. The round exited, leaving a hole the size of a grapefruit. By now the man with the axe was charging him. Jack stepped aside, delivered a roundhouse kick the axeman's midsection and shot him in the back of the head as he stumbled past. He turned just in time to catch Batman's charge head on, jumping in under his overhead swing. Jack wrapped an arm around the man's neck and fired three times into his chest. The shots were muffle by his body. Jack stepped back and surveyed the scene. Five men dead in under a minute. He tried to ignore the way his hands shook as he checked the magazine in the gun. Two rounds left. He could hear his blood pounding and he felt like he was going to be sick. He knew it was adrenaline but that didn't help.

"Holy fuckballs! Jack what the fuck did you do to them." Jess' eloquent outburst broke Jack out of his inward spiral. He looked up to see her standing at the top of the railing right by the treacherous floorboard that had given him away. Her hair was still mussed up from sleep but she stared down in an even mix of horror and alarm.

"I killed them." He said simply. He had a tendency to do that. During times of high stress, he would revert to short concise sentences with minimal eye contact.

"Well no shit Sherlock I saw you kill them I mean…. You just flowed. One second you're on the ground, next second you're this whirling death machine."

"Oh that. Yes, daily martial arts practise." Suddenly the reality of the situation snapped Jack back into the present. Shaking his head, he took in his surroundings. He was standing in a group of five dead bodies in his underwear holding one of their guns. A very LOUD gun. It was time to go.

"Get back to the room, get dressed and get packed. We're leaving in five minutes." Suiting action to words Jack raced up the stairs and began pulling on clothing. He spared a minutes to pull their dry yet still stained clothing out of the laundry and crammed them into his rucksack not bothering to separate them according to ownership. When they were finally dressed they went back downstairs and Jack began searching the bodies. Unfortunately, besides the weapons he had already seen, they carried no extra ammunition. The hunting rifle carried five rounds of .308, the 1911 had two rounds of .45 ACP, and the snub nosed .38 special only had one round left. Jack tucked the 1911 into the back of his waistband and Jess picked up the hunting rifle and the .38. Stepping out into the rain they looked out at the street as the sun started to crest the horizon behind the cloud cover. They knew where they had to go. They knew what they had to do. Tugging his bush cap low over his eyes to keep out the rain Jack stepped off on what he had a feeling, would be one hell of a ride.

**A/N There it is. Since the moment I first posted it I had been unhappy with my first chapter. I felt like I didn't put enough work into it and it showed. So here it is the Chapter 1 RETCON Stay tuned Shit-birds.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Armouries

**Chapter 2: The Armouries**

**AN: So, I'm back with a proper length chapter this time. There's a few reasons why this took so long to update. Chief among them is temporary loss of interest and lack of access to a computer. But whatever Enjoy!**

"One hell of a ride my ass" were Jack's first thoughts upon reaching the road. What he had thought would be a quick hike through the woods to reach the Company armouries had turned into a two-hour slugfest of dense brush and towering trees in a way that only west coast forests could provide, ducking for cover at the slightest sound. He realized quickly that walking the shortest path down the street would get them killed and therefore he made the decision to skirt around the most densely populated areas using the maps that CERA had provided.

He couldn't believe how quickly everything had gone to hell once the government and CERA pulled out. It was like flipping a switch. People were killing each other in droves because they believed that they had been abandoned. There were so many more left behind than Jack had thought would be.

They had neither the ammo or the numbers to deal with every threat they came across so mostly they ducked behind a tree or bush and waited for who ever it was to pass by. There had been plenty of such instances though. Gunshots and screaming were most common. He had to steel himself not to intervene every time though. They just couldn't spare the ammo. The only time he broke that rule was when he saw a father and a son who couldn't have been any older than six being attacked by a man in a business suit. The father had a shotgun but he couldn't figure out how to take the safety off and the man in the business suit had a pocket knife that he used to stab at the man's midsection. He missed wildly and firmly planted the blade in his bicep instead before turning toward the son. A well placed shot from Jack's captured hunting rifle ended the fight and brought their total ammo count down to seven rounds, including that of the 1911 tucked into his waistband and Jess' snub nosed revolver. He considered going out and helping the other man but he held himself back when he noticed that the suburban, white collar father had finally figured out the safety catch on the shotgun, and was looking around wildly. He faded back into the bush without another thought of help.

And so they continued on, ducking groups of people whether they looked to be hunting or just trying to stay alive. Outright running away in the case of a couple of people on dirt bikes with a collection of baseball bats and wood axes. After what seemed like the tensest two hours of their lives, the two of them sat in a ditch on the edge of the forest not a hundred metres away from their destination, watching a woman about to be raped in the middle of the street.

The woman looked to be of east Indian descent and was screaming as two men held her down while a third had cut off her shirt and bra with a large bloodstained hunting knife and was currently working on her pants.

"Jack…" Jess urged quietly from behind him. He ignored her. "Jack I swear to God if you don't do something to help her I will." She said as she hefted the .38 seeming to ignore the fact that it only had one round.

"I will help her I just need a plan" he whispered harshly.

"What's to plan?" she demanded "Just shoot the fuckers and stop them!"

Sighing in resignation he lifted the hunting rifle and fired, it went off with a loud crack as it caught the man with the knife in the shoulder flipping him off the hysterical woman. Working the bolt quickly he chambered another round, fired and caught the second man in the chest and again in the stomach. He fell to ground with a spray of blood out of his back. His third shot however went wild and without thought he tossed the now empty rifle aside, drew the .45 out of his waistband and fired twice hitting the man once in the chest and once in the throat blowing out the back of his neck.

He was about to toss the empty pistol aside but thought better of it, instead hitting the slide release allowing it to come forward with a loud _shlick _noise, and tucked it back into his waistband. He had a particular fondness for the 1911.

As he turned to check on the sobbing woman he was surprised by Jess yelling "Jack watch out!" which was followed by a blinding pain in his left shoulder. Whirling around he saw the first man bleeding freely from his shoulder holding the freshly stained knife in his other hand attempting to shove it into his stomach.

_That mother fucker stabbed me in the back! _were his thoughts as he reacted by stepping aside grabbing the wrist holding the knife and with his other hand the elbow above it, and rotating his shoulders until the arm in his grasp bent the wrong way with a satisfying snap. Stepping back, he delivered a hard kick to the mans head snapping his head back and knocking him out cold. As he looked around he assessed his work. Two dead, one royally fucked up, and two empty guns. Not to mention a sobbing woman and a knife wound in his back which was beginning to throb again now that the adrenaline was wearing off. He turned to see Jess who was now running towards him carrying their packs.

"He stabbed me in the fucking back!" He yelled half disbelievingly. He recognized the beginning stages of shock but shrugged it off for the time being.

"Let me see" Jess said as she came up to him and dropped their bags.

"It's fine" he said moving away from her "I can still move my arm"

"Jack, you stubborn _ass_ of a man, let me see it or I swear to fucking God I will finish the job myself!" She said planting her fists on her hips. _Was that something women had to learn? _ He wondered, _Or are they born with the knowledge_. Either way he couldn't help it, he giggled. She looked adorable. _Yep definitely going into shock_ he thought.

She gave him a concerned look and checked the wound, telling him that he would be fine. It hadn't made it past the bone.

"Alright now check on her" he said nodding toward the woman who now lay on the ground sobbing. She was a mess he decided. Her clothes were shredded, she was bruised and scraped, and her makeup was smeared mess across her face but at least she was alive. He started digging into his pack for a spare shirt to give her to replace the one that had been cut.

"She'll be alright" Jess said coming back over to him. "She wasn't hurt too badly beyond some minor bruises and cuts and they never got past her pants."

"Good" Jack said standing up, fresh T-shirt in hand, "Let's get her dressed, get her up, and get moving."

"We're bringing her with us?" Jess asked surprise written across her face. "Not that I disagree, it just seems surprising given your general attitude this morning."

"Its not that I didn't want to help those people!" Jack was getting angry now "We just couldn't afford to! It was too dangerous! I refuse to leave this woman now that there is something that we can do"

"If I might interject…"

Both Jack and Jess whirled in surprise at the unexpected voice of the other woman. She stood there quite calmly all things considered, one arm crossed over her chest in a mostly successful attempt to preserve her modesty. Mostly because she was, well… stacked was the first word that popped into Jack's mind.

"I do not know who either of you are and you do not know me, yet that did not stop you from intervening on my behalf. For that you have my gratitude whatever it is worth to you." She spoke in a clear high class English accent. Suddenly she blushed and held her unoccupied hand out towards the forgotten shirt in Jack's hand. "If you don't mind I would assume that shirt is meant for me?" She gave a meaningful look between Jack and the shirt.

Starting, he sheepishly held the shirt out to the topless woman embarrassed that her suddenly talking had caused him to completely forget the shirt.

"My name is Dr. Tricia Mehta, the man who's elbow you just dislocated after shooting him is– was my husband Aadesh Mehta." She said this while turning her back and pulling the olive drab shirt over her head. It stretched across her chest but otherwise hung from her slender frame. After donning the borrowed garment, she turned around and calmly kicked her dying husband between the legs as hard as she could. He barely groaned at the impact.

Jack couldn't believe how well this woman was holding it all together. He was barely managing to keep himself from panicking and yet this woman was cool and collected even after the ordeal she had nearly suffered. Upon closer inspection however he saw that she was trembling. Clearly barely holding on.

"Well I think we've spent long enough in one place." Jack announced, shouldering his pack. "We're almost there and its time to get a move on. Doctor, if you're coming let's go."

"Of course" was her only reply.

The three of them then made their way up the street towards the large building that housed three separate units including his home unit of 32 Service Battalion. He hoped it was empty. His entire plan revolved around not having to fight his way inside. If there were already hostile people occupying the building they'd have to come up with a new plan very, VERY fast.

As they approached the front steps he had to hold back a groan. The front doors were closed but the glass had been smashed out. Clearly someone had been here before them. Approaching slowly, he tried not to let his boots crunch on the glass. The two others were holding back while he checked everything out. Almost too late he saw a hand holding a Beretta whip around the corner and squeeze off a shot. The hand he noticed with near relief was attached to an arm wearing CADPAT. He dropped to the ground as the round snapped over head where he had been standing no more than a second ago. Scrambling on all fours, he got back around the corner outside the building. The girls had taken cover behind a concrete planter at the sound of the shot.

"Fuck Off!" yelled a familiar voice from inside. "You're not getting in here"

"Andrew?!" Jack yelled back, he was sure it was him.

"Jack?!" he yelled back.

"Yeah man what the fuck!" Jack was pissed, rightfully so. The fucker tried to kill him without even looking at what he was shooting at.

"You alright man? I didn't get you did I?" despite the conversational tone they had adopted neither one was breaking from cover.

"Nah you're still a terrible shot" Hopefully a joke would loosen the tension in the air.

"Fuck you, asshole" was the reply. It seemed less tense. Now or never.

"Look man I'm gonna come out now okay? Don't fucking shoot me" He waited for the reply. It was a long time coming.

"Slowly dude, It's pretty crazy out there." He left it at that. He didn't need to say anymore. Jack and Jess had been lucky. They started out from a pretty isolated location and managed to avoid people for the main trip there. If Jack remembered correctly Andrew's section had been downtown. Undoubtedly he had seen some fucked up things.

Slowly, so slowly Jack stood up and stepped around the corner. He kept his hands in plain view. Not up precisely, but visible enough to keep him from getting himself accidentally shot. The 1911 was fully visible in its resting place in the front of his pants. He wasn't trying to hide it. He wanted the other man to know that he was armed and had no intentions of drawing. Not that it would do any good, the gun was empty.

"You alone?" Andrew was nervous but seemed to be calming down thankfully.

"No I have two others behind cover waiting for me to say it's safe to come in. You?" Jack was hoping there were others in the building, it would make the trip up island a lot safer. Then again a full platoon might not be enough to get them where they were going safely. He could comfortably house that many.

"Me and three others. Joe, Mark, and Tawny" That made sense they were in his section. By now Andrew had had holstered the Beretta so it seemed safe to approach.

"Mind if we come in? I'd like to get us off the street" That was most definitely the truth. Jack hated being so exposed. Especially with ducklings in tow.

At Andrews indication Jack signalled to Jess and Tricia to come out from behind the planter. The four of them moved deeper into the building. The lights were out so while not completely dark there was a significant gloom about the place. It fit with the circumstances. Telling the others to wait near the entrance hallway Jack headed off toward his gear locker. He needed to feel in charge again. It was both a problem and a blessing of his. He always needed to be in control of any given situation. While it often caused his personal relationships to suffer, his drive for perfection were what caused him to excel in both his designs and in the general running of his company. Reaching his locker, he opened the lock and was thankful his paranoia had actually worked in his favour for once. Inside were two separate sets of kit. One was the standard Canadian Forces issue CADPAT Tac vest and helmet, but hanging next to it was a piece of kit that would always hold special meaning to him. It was the original vest that he had pitched to the Canadian Forces. The one that started it all, The SKORPIAN plate armour. The exterior was based off of the USMC plate carrier though underneath the Coyote brown MOLLE and cordura nylon was a set of overlapping plates made out of an advanced lightweight ceramic polymer. It had full neck to stomach coverage and weighed slightly less than the current CF Frag vest. If you stripped it down to nothing but the plates it would look like some kind of medieval fantasy armour. Where it outshone the competition was that it was slightly cheaper, and would stop a 7.62 round fired from an AK-47 in its tracks. Shrugging into the vest he clipped his American style MICH helmet to the front of his vest and strapped on his thigh holster. Luckily the SERPA holster had been designed for the CF's Browning Hi-Power and would fit a 1911 easily. Looking himself over he admitted that he looked like a gear whore, those people that buy all the tacti-cool gear to make it look like they were in a modern warfare video game but fuck it. It will keep him alive. The last thing was to grab his sling and Arabic style Shemagh scarf to keep the vest from chafing and he was set. Slamming the locker closed, he walked back over towards the three who were still waiting for him by the entrance.

"Hey Drew, you got any .45 ACP?" Jack would need ammo for the 1911. He was definitely keeping it.

"No but I think Solomine does"

Andrew MacTavish and Mark Solomine were the unit's weapons enthusiasts. Both of them being weapons techs like Jack himself if any one was going to have a certain type of ammunition among them it would be those two.

"Cool I'll ask him. Do me a favour go get everyone, bring them here. I have something to run by you guys." Jack saw the confused look Andrew gave him but he went anyway and that was the important thing. Three minutes later the Andrew was back with three others. Jack looked them over. Drew was about 6'2" with tanned skin, dark hair, and brown eyes. Mark was the opposite standing closer to Jacks 5'9" with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. Joe Ramirez suited his heritage by standing shorter at 5'6" with dark chocolate brown eyes and dark almost black hair. His permanently tanned complexion spoke to his being born in El Salvador. The last of them was Craig Tawny who was 6'0" 260lbs of pure muscle. The man was a bear. A supply tech who spent most of his free time in the gym. Jack swore he saw him pick up a car once. Admittedly it was the back end away from the engine but still it was damn impressive. As they all gathered in he mentally prepared himself for what he was about to reveal to them.

"Okay now that your all here I have something important to tell you." Jack could tell that while curious they were still wary. Nerves were frayed right now, and everyone was one loud noise away from full fight or flight freak-outs.

"You all know me as Jack Hawkins. Master Corporal from Ontario that you never hear from outside of the military. That's because the rest of the week my name is Jonathan Hawkings, CEO of TAC-6 Industries." That got their attention. He could see their reactions varying from disbelief, to shock, to outright anger at being lied to. "I kept this from you because I enjoyed having a life where nobody knew I was privately worth well over a billion dollars. However right now it's actually working in our favour. I have a house, well more like a compound, up-island with security that actually more than crosses then line into illegal. As long as you're inside the walls I can guarantee your safety. Are you interested?"

Their reactions were as expected. Lots of yelling, lots of questions, but after about twenty minutes he had each of them not only believing him but agreeing to go along with him.

"Ok well before anything else we have to be able to get there. What have you guys gotten done so far?"

Not much apparently. Like Jack and Jess. They had been cut off from the rest of the convoy and missed the evacuation. After camping out in an apartment building for the night, they had had to fight there way here. Once they got here, severely low on ammo, they had spent their time trying to find the keys for the weapon and ammo vaults. Four separate keys in total, none of them kept in the same place. Two of them Jack knew for a fact weren't even in the building. These men should know that. It was a sign of the panic that had everyone that he had to point it out to them.

"Listen we need to get this out of the way now. If were going to do this, I'm in charge. Its my house, my supply lines, my gear. I want no arguments. If you can agree to that your welcome to come. Otherwise I'll see that your armed before we leave but that's it. You'll be on your own. Is everyone cool with that?" Jack let out a breath when he saw the nods around the circle including the women. He had been counting on everyone accepting. He wasn't sure he would get there without them.

"Good, alright let's get started. Drew head to maintenance and get the acetylene torch, we're cutting the doors open. Joe get me keys to two MILCOTS. Whichever ones you can get backed into maintenance the fastest. Don't go outside yet though. Craig take Jess and the Doctor to supply and get them to help you. I want radios for everyone here. Get the 521's. I also want a box or two of rations. Then head to the medic supply lines and help the doctor load up a ready bag of whatever medical supplies she needs to get us there in one piece. Mark I need a box or two of .45 ACP if you can spare it, then your going to help me and Drew get into the vaults." Jack paused for a second after issuing his rapid fire orders. After making sure everyone was following him so far he continued. "Before all that I want everyone kitted up in full battle rattle. If you don't have armour break into lockers until you find some. Then get whatever kit you need to maintenance." With that he sent everyone off to their assigned tasks. He himself went to find a sledgehammer. One of the perks to being insanely rich with very high ranking contacts meant that he could get favours done that were a little, unusual if he was willing to spend the money. One of those favours was sitting behind a false wall in the ammo vault. Technically secured and procured through the military supply lines, it was paid for by himself and not the military.

He found what he was looking for in the back of one of the recovery trucks. A 10lb sledge would be enough to punch through the drywall between Jack and what he was looking for.

"Here, I could only spare one box but I had a couple of extra mags if you need one." Mark sounded a little out of breath as he came up to him. He must have run.

"Thanks" Jack said, accepting the .45 caliber rounds from the blonde man. "Let's get down to the vaults, Drew should be firing up the torch by now." They walked side by side down the hallway with Mark only sparing a questioning glance at the hammer over Jacks shoulder.

When they reached the T junction in the hallway they saw Drew already working at the hinges on the vault door. He had cut through one already and was working on the second by the time they walked up next to him. Jack set down the hammer and began reloading the magazine on the 1911. As he loaded each round he spared a thought towards the fucked up situation they were in. Whoever had planned this evacuation had done a shit job of it. From what he could tell, only half of the overall population had been evacuated. What kind of fucked up politician thought that it was a good idea. He knew he was avoiding the truth but he didn't care. The truth was that the blame didn't lie on the government alone. It had been a shit situation and the people in charge had done the best they could. Granted the people in charge were also idiots but that was to be expected.

After sliding the last round into his second mag he slid the refreshed magazine into the 1911 and with a satisfying sound chambered a round. He then put the weapon on safe and re-holstered it. Drew was just now finishing with the second hinge and was moving on to the next door that contained the Military Police weapons. That was the vault that Jack was waiting for. But for now he grabbed a pair of bolt cutters that Drew had brought out with the cutting torch and set to work on the padlocks holding the weapons in their racks. By the time he had everything opened Andrew had finished with the second door and was moving on to the Ammo vault. Jack grabbed a C9 light machine gun and brought it out and set it down next to Andrew. "Once we get the ammo I want you to take this and head back to the front door. You keep out anybody hostile who tries to come in. Remember your trigger discipline. Don't shoot unless you have to." With that Jack walked over to the MP vault and ripped the door down off of its melted hinges. It fell to the ground with a loud crash. Walking in he set to work on the Weapon locks. The MP's used different weapons than the other units in the armouries. Where the Service Battalion used C7's the Canadian improvement on the American M16, C9's which were again a variation of the SAW used by the Americans, the Browning Hi-Power, and the Carl Gustav recoilless rifle, The MPs used Remmington 870 shotguns, C9's, Sig Sauer P-225's, and C8's. Where the C7 was an improvement on the M16, the C8 was an improvement on the M4 Carbine. This last one was the weapon that Jack was after. He had a C7 assigned to him in the Service Battalion vault but he much preferred the lighter weight and EOTech Holographic sight on the C8. Pulling one off the rack he grabbed a bolt from a nearby locker that he had previously cut open. Cracking open the weapon he dropped the bolt in and reassembled it. Before he even realized it he was preforming a function test by habit. With that completed he attached it to the black single point sling already wrapped around him and let the rifle hang at his side. He walked out just in time to see the door on the ammo vault fall open. Walking into the open vault he cut the lock off of the ammo locker to find his fears confirmed. On any given day they had plenty of blank ammunition in the locker but no live rounds. Whenever they went to the range an order would be placed to the Rocky Point ammo depot and they would pick it up the day before. As such there was three cans of blank rounds and absolutely no live ammo.

"Fuck!" Drew yelled. "What the hell are we supposed to do now? Point our guns and yell budget cuts every time we pull the trigger?"

Jack calmly stood up and walked back out into the hallway. He had prepared for this a long time ago by having some modifications made when they renovated the vault. It had cost him nearly a hundred grand to get the people involved to look the other way while he altered the contractor's instructions but it was now obvious that it had been worth it. He grabbed the Sledgehammer that he had leaned up against the wall and walked back inside. Sliding the useless ammo locker out of the way, he ignored Andrews startled yells and swung the hammer as hard as he could against the drywall. Mark ran in to see what the noise was as he pulled the hammer free and swung again. Over and over he smashed the drywall until there was a sizable hole near the floor of the vault. Tossing the hammer aside, he knelt down, pulled a flashlight from his vest and peered through the drywall dust into the hole inside the wall. Seeing the large black Pelican Box inside he grabbed the handle and heaved it out. Reaching back inside he pulled out a second.

Popping open the tabs he revealed enough ammunition to supply a small uprising. It was a soldier's wet dream, 5.56 ball for the C7s and C8s, 5.56 link for the C9s, 00 Buck for the shotguns, 9mm Parabellum for the handguns, even frag grenades and 86mm shells for the Carl G. Turning to the other two he said "Andrew grab two C9 boxes and head out to the door. Mark, see if Craig and the women are done and get them here to help you start balming mags. I want everyone to have a full combat load of ten. Balm it all. I don't want any left in the boxes." With that said he went to go and see how Joe was doing with his assignment.

He found him down the adjoining hall in the supply office putting down the crowbar he used to pry open the transport key press. "You picked the trucks yet?" Jack asked as he walked in.

"Got em boss, just needed to get the keys." Joe said over his shoulder as he searched through the key press for the right CFR numbers.

"Alright, grab them and head over to the vault and get yourself a weapon and ammo." With that said Jack headed back over to the vault. As he got there he saw Craig and the other two frantically loading magazines alongside Mark. As each empty mag was filled it was placed in a growing stack next to the pile of empty magazines.

"Where's the kit?" Jack asked as he walked up and starting grabbing from the stack of full magazines.

"Piled in maintenance, I also grabbed a couple of Recce tents just in case." The Nordic giant replied without looking up from his work. He and Tricia were using the mag chargers in each ammo can to load each 5.56 mag ten rounds at a time while Jess was hand balming the pistol mags one round at a time.

"Your radio is over there." Craig continued gesturing to a nearby weapon rack where an AN/PRC-521 radio was sitting with a headset attached. "Everyone except for you has one now"

Looking around Jack realized he was right. Everyone had one of the headsets strapped on while they worked. Even the doctor had one with the radio stuffed into the front pocket of the pullover hoodie she had found. Jack took the radio and slid it into the pouch on his vest made specifically for that purpose. Clipping the talk button to his vest to keep it from bouncing around he put the headset on and keyed the mic. "This is Jack, radio check" One by one every one keyed in that they heard him loud and clear, even though most of them were standing next to him loading magazines. After loading up his vest with ten magazines he grabbed another one and fitted it into his rifle, slapping the bottom to make sure it was fitted correctly. Grabbing the cocking handle he racked the weapon with the distinctive _shlick shlock _noise he had grown to love. Putting the weapon on safe more out of habit than anything he grabbed Joe who had finished loading up on his own ammo, and together they headed towards the maintenance bay and the back compound. They stopped when they reached the bay door. Silently they started gearing up to go back outside. Jack pulled on his gloves, hard knuckle Oakleys that he had a fondness for. Okay he was willing to admit if only to himself that he was a bit of a gear whore, but what was the point of having money if you couldn't spend it. After that he wrapped the scarf around his head concealing his face and saw Joe doing much the same with his own scarf. He had to remove the radio headset in order to properly get it on but once it was he replaced the headset and put on his helmet. Securing it down snug, he pulled the cover off the tinted ballistic goggles attached to the top of the helmet, Oakleys again, and pulled them down over his face. With their features now completely obscured from head to toe, Jack from necessity due to who he was, and Joe because he was following Jack's lead, they went over their plan. It only took them a couple of minutes to work something out, and with that in mind they got set. With a nod from Jack, Joe began pulling the chain to crank the bay door open moving as quickly as he could. When it was open enough to get a truck through, Joe sprinted out heading for the closest truck that he had keys for. Jack scanned the fence line hoping against hope that he didn't see anything. Not with Ramirez out exposed like that.

Luckily no one showed themselves and Joe was able to get in the truck and quickly back it inside. Slamming the bay door closed, they reversed positions and got ready to go on the next door. Jack starting pulling the door chain as fast as he could and sprinted out for the truck. Only to have what felt like a lead baseball bat hit him in the chest. He realized he was flat on his back on the ground at the same time he became aware of the gunfire around him. Scrambling for cover, he slammed his body behind the engine block of the nearest truck. Peeking around the side he saw three people in the process of hopping the fence while another shot at them through a gap in the privacy screen. Squeezing off two quick shots, he keyed his mic and yelled "Contact! Contact rear compound! Get the weapons into the back of the truck, we are NOT leaving them for these people!"

After that he focused on the fight. The first three had managed to take cover and were shooting towards Jack and Ramirez who had taken cover behind the wall of the maintenance bay. Luckily only the first one was any good of a shot and he was busy climbing the fence. A carefully aimed shot took him out of the equation and he hung from the fence limply. The other three continued pouring fire on them. While inaccurate there was enough of it incoming that eventually something would hit. It occurred to him that there was too much fire to be coming from three people with civilian weapons. Apparently they had gotten their hands on C7's and ammo. Bay Street Armouries must have fallen. After about five minute of trading fire eventually the last of them were taken care of. Climbing up to his feet he called the all clear into the radio. Getting into the truck he was after he was thankful that it hadn't taken any fire other than a bullet hole in the door. Both him and Ramirez were also unhurt other than the round he took to the vest. When they got back in and shut the door with both trucks inside, Jack saw that everyone except for drew was there and was currently loading the first trucks with the weapons from the vault as fast as they could.

"This the last of them?" Jack asked the group

"Yeah this is the last load." Jess responded. She seemed to be holding it together fairly well despite the rush and panic they were now under.

"Jack… you're gonna want to see this." This from Drew over the radio. He sounded worried. Which of course made Jack worried.

"I'm on my way."

Jack rushed out to Andrews position and got down next to him.

"We've got company though I don't think they know were here. Probably drawn by the sound of the firefight but they don't know where it was." Andrew was referring to the sizable crowd gathered on the road about 50 metres down from the armouries.

Suddenly two figures were pushed out from the middle of the crowd. It was the father and son from earlier.

"Oh no…" Jack muttered under his breath. "No no no no no" Andrew was lining up a shot and cocking he C9.

"No" Jack put his hand on Drews shoulder. "We can't. We're not ready and there's too many of them even for this gun." God he wanted to though, so much. The father was missing his shotgun and his shirt was torn and cut and covered in blood. His face was a solid mass of blood and bruises. His son wasn't much better.

"Fuck that they're gonna kill em" He flipped the safety off.

"Stop. I understand, believe me I do but if you do that now we are all dead. Every one of us. We can't intervene, not against that many." The crowd was easily in the hundreds and they had separated the father and son forcing the father onto his knees, the son they held apart from him. He was just out of arms reach if they hadn't had his arms secured behind his back. The boy, that cute, sweet little six year old boy with a mass of curly blonde hair on his head. That boy died in front of his father as his throat was slowly cut.

Jack swore that it didn't matter if he lived to be a hundred, he would never again hear pain the likes of which came out that little boy's father. Jack knew he would take that sound to his grave.

After a minute of letting the father scream the man who killed the son calmly pulled out a handgun and shot him in the head.

Tears were streaming down Jacks face and he knew the same was coming from Andrew's, he could feel the man sobbing next to him.

"Jack we're ready to go" Came the voice over the radio. Jack stood up and Andrew stood with him. Neither man spoke until Jack keyed his mike and in a dead flat voice, keyed his radio and said "Acknowledged, everybody grab a C9 and grenades. We have work to do."

With that the two of them headed back to the trucks. When they arrived Jack haltingly told them what happened and watched as their faces grew first horrified and then stonier with every word. He gave them their orders on how the crowd up front would be dealt with and they loaded up, everyone holding a loaded C9 as ordered and almost eager to use it except for the doctor. She held a Shotgun and tried to stay as low as possible.

As the two trucks pulled out Jack had them stop in the middle of the road facing away from the crowd. People were just starting to turn as he and Andrew each stepped out with their C9s slung, and a grenade in each hand. They took three paces toward the crowd, put their hands together, and with each hand pulled the pin of the grenade in the opposite. With a calm almost synchronized toss, they threw the grenades underhanded into the middle of the crowd and turned back to the trucks. The explosives went off with four loud _whumps_ muted by the crowd of people around them. The grenades sent sprays of blood and body parts flying into the air as Jack and Andrew turned around and slowly walked back until they reached the trucks. When they got there they were met by everyone except for the doctor already waiting with machine guns leveled. As soon as they made it back to the firing line they turned and leveled their guns. As one all six of them opened up with their belt felt, gas operated, open breech, 5.56mm death machines.

It was a fucking slaughter.

The street became a meat grinder. You hear about "the pink mist" in video games but you never understand until you actually see it. It literally looked like a cloud of pink fog hung over the street as they all died ten, twenty at a time. When they were done, nobody spoke a word. They just got in their trucks and drove away. The street was covered in meat. That was all that was left of the crowd of killers. Meat and bits of bone.

From overhead the crows wheeled and fell.

**Well! That got dark didn't it? Anyway I'm coming off a Night shift writing this so my mind can't really come up with anything deep and insightful to say about the story so I'm not going to try. Have a good one and I'll try to post more frequently from now on. - Boxer**


	3. Chapter 3 On the Road

**A/N: Yay new chapter! This one was really hard to wright for some reason. I don't know why. It just seemed to drag on. Anyway it's my longest yet at over 8200 words! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 3: On the Road**

The next five minutes were spent in silence. Nobody wanted to try and speak about what they had all just witnessed. Jack knew that it would stick with him for the rest of his life. While he and Drew had avenged them, that little boy's blonde curls were there every time he closed his eyes. He still felt the slight tingle in his shoulder from the recoil of the C9 now stowed back in the bed of the truck. What had surprised him the most was when he looked next to him on the gun line he saw Jess standing there looking determined enough to walk through a concrete wall without stopping. They had all taken part in the massacre even if to Jack it felt more like justice.

A voice in his headset broke him out of his reverie. It was Tawny, driving the lead truck ahead of them.

"Ok Jack, where to?" He could hear the weariness in the big mans voice. Today was taking a toll on everybody

"Just get on the highway to Nanaimo. Once we get closer to the city I'll give you more directions from there. "

His compound was located just outside the city on the top of a small mountain. Really it was more of a large hill with a great view of the city and harbour. But what concerned him was that to get to it from the highway they would have to drive through some well populated areas. Not downtown exactly, but dense enough to have some tight turns and choke points that would make a great ambush for anybody of a mind to. These trucks were not armoured past the stock steel used for the doors and would have a hard time stopping a .22 let alone anything else people might have. He hoped he would be able to get everyone through this alive.

Looking around inside the vehicle he took stock of his people. There was Jess, badass little Jess with her hair a mess sticking out of her bun and hanging in her face. Her helmet looked comically large dwarfing her head. She had the barrel of her rifle resting against the inside of her knee as it pointed at the floor in the backseat. Jack knew he wasn't supposed to notice the tears silently streaming down her face. To her left was Mark with his C9 casually pointed out the window. Technically Canadians weren't supposed to shoot out of the windows. If they were attacked they were to either get the fuck out of there, or dismount and engage. Jack had told them that they were not to get out of the trucks unless absolutely necessary. They were to suppress whoever was shooting at them as they drove away.

He couldn't help but shake his head as he looked up at the truck in front of them. Military-Commercial-Off-The-Shelf or MilCOTS, were the general term for the sad excuse of a military vehicle they were in. The Light Utility Vehicle Wheeled, or LUVW was a 2003 Chevy Silverado painted green with a few alterations made. It was a pickup truck with a cap on the back that was never designed for combat. As such it had absolutely no capability for armour or mounting weapons. Other than the paint job, brush guard, bed modifications and mounts for a radio it was literally a civilian pickup truck. Its nickname was the Chevy Milverado. For what it was designed for, it was actually a decent truck. For combat, it was a piece of shit. This is what had Jack so worried. If they took any kind of fire those rounds would punch right through and into them.

Looking ahead at the next truck he wondered how the doctor would do if they got into any heavy fighting. For that matter he wondered how any of them would do. The most combat any of them had seen was what happened today. Decent enough trial by fire he supposed but he got the feeling this was going to be a really long day.

Craig was driving the lead truck with Drew riding shotgun with his C9 out the window opposite of Marks. Trish was behind the both of them. Driving as far apart as they were if one of the trucks was blown up by some kind of improvised explosive device or IED there was enough distance and time to react accordingly. They would either stop to try and help the occupants, or get out of there as fast as possible.

Jack knew he was only thinking about these things to avoid noticing what was happening outside the vehicles. It seemed like every second building they passed was either had its windows smashed or was on fire. People were running any way they could. Most were covered in blood. He tried not to look down side alleys as they passed. He had no interest in making himself feel guilty over the rapes and murders he could do nothing about. He couldn't save everybody. He learned that lesson the hard way. He quickly supressed a flash of blonde curls and an agonized scream and scanned around. Not many people seemed to have guns thankfully. Knives, axes, and baseball bats were no threat to them.

Other people weren't so lucky however. The streets, even this far from downtown seemed to run with blood. He couldn't understand it. These were people that only a couple of weeks ago, had lived completely normal lives. Even up until yesterday they had never killed anybody, they were just getting up and going to work. Maybe it's the freedom they suddenly found. They weren't just paying bills until they died anymore. They had a future other than societal norms. The only problem was they felt that they had to fight and kill for it. Humanity is violent, always has been always will be.

Let's think about it this way, there are two kinds of people. The first when dropped off in the wilderness with predators all around and plenty of game to be had is going to revert to the flight instinct. They are going to run and scavenge for food wherever they can find it. The second kind however when they see the threats and other weaker animals is going to go the other way. While the first person is running as fast as they can from danger, the second is making a weapon.

That's what was happening here. In the space of a day humanity had devolved from an advanced reasoning society with laws and science, to prehistoric hunter-gatherers with the weapons and technology of modern human civilisation. Half of the people seemed to be running with no particular destination in mind and the other half was doing their best to kill the first. Panic and chaos was the order of the day with nobody caring what happened to the person next to them.

It was killing him, seeing all this going on and knowing that there was nothing they could do to help. Victoria's population was tearing itself apart and they all had a front row seat through the truck windows. Within five minutes Jess wasn't the only one in tears.

Of course they weren't exactly safe themselves. The MilCOTS had a few extra dents along its body as well as a few new bullet holes but no injuries thankfully. The front bumper was covered in blood by this point as were the tires. The windshield had a few cracks in it but other than minor things they made it out of the city in one piece. Seeing all the empty highway around them they actually managed to relax a little. From the Hell within the city to the comfort and familiarity of an empty highway. The difference was like dunking your head in a stream. After an hour with no sign of death or destruction it was actually possible to forget what they had just left.

They enjoyed the ride in silence right up until they passed a girl being raped on the side of the road. Jack immediately ordered the truck stopped as he threw open the door and was on his feet running, weapon shouldered before the tires stopped spinning. The girl couldn't have been any older than fifteen, with shoulder length blonde hair, and the remains of a knit sweater pushed up to her armpits as she lay on her back trying to fight off her attacker who must have outweighed her by a hundred pounds. She would have been pretty before the bruising, smeared makeup, and blood stemming from several cuts on her face. Without pausing Jack sighted and fired, hitting the rapist just above his ear. A 5.56 round isn't very big, about the size of a .22, but it has a lot of power behind it. It entered barely leaving a hole but the shockwave caved in the area around the entry wound. As the round passed through his skull moving faster than the speed of sound, the waves of energy that followed turned everything inside his head to mush. Once it punched out the other side the shockwave ripped all that mush and a good chunk of his skull out with it to spray against the nearby car. He was dead before the rest of his body realized it. Now missing about half of his head, the corpse slowly fell beside the screaming girl.

Jack lowered his rifle slowly, now pointing in the general direction in stead of directly at the girl. When she realized what had happened she looked over wildly. Seeing Jack standing there she quickly scrambled to pull an old Tokarev pistol out of the back of the meat sacks pants. Jacks rifle snapped back up as soon as she did but instead of aiming it at him she placed it against the underside of her chin.

"No WAIT! – "

BAM!

He hated the way his mind saw things. He saw it happen in real time like everyone else, but at the same time his mind didn't skip a single detail. It was almost like it was happening in slow motion. She looked him in the eyes as she pulled the trigger. Pretty green eyes that a boy could get lost in some day. They were deep pools of expression. Right now all they were expressing was soul wrenching pain. This was a girl who truly had given up and was frantically trying to find an alternative to the hell she was now living in. Next came the shot and he watched the Russian pistol belch out its war cry. He saw the muzzle flash; he saw the gun jump in her hand as her inexperienced wrist buckled under the recoil of the heavy round. He saw the slide come back and eject the round. The shiny piece of brass flipped away from the gun trailing smoke almost cheerily, happy that it had done its job. The hole it left in the bottom of her chin was so startlingly clean and sharp. A perfect circle Jack knew analytically would be just slightly larger than 7.62mm. The hole on the other side however was much worse. Just like the man who drove her to this, she was not treated gently by the passage of the bullet. The shock did not spare her anymore than it had her attacker. One second her head was whole, the next the top of her skull was just gone in a great fountain of blood, bone, and brain matter.

Jack sank to his knees as her body fell backwards. He just managed to claw the scarf off of his face in time to noisily throw up the few things he had eaten the day before. It was too much. A person could only take so much before they couldn't handle it anymore. The girl had hit hers, Jack still had some fight left in him but God was it getting hard.

The sound of footsteps and a hand placed on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Ramirez looking down at him with concern. Looking past him he saw that everyone was out of the vehicles. Half of them were watching the surrounding areas looking for threats but the other half were looking his way with concern written all over their faces. He could mourn the dead later after he had taken care of the living.

"Mount Up!" he yelled out after picking himself up off the pavement. The others obeyed without saying a word. Nobody wanted to say anything. Everybody was getting pushed past their emotional limits.

As much as they had hoped for a quiet ride the rest of the way it was not to be. Less than an hour later they slowed to a stop as they saw two vehicles blocking the road ahead of them about 100 metres away. One was a newer Toyota corolla with its front end smashed in and the inside of the front windows stained with blood. The other was a Ford F150 with a large tarp covering the bed of the truck. The way the vehicles were stopped was what had Jacks senses on high alert. Both were stopped perpendicular to the highway with the Toyotas front end pressed into the tailgate of the Ford. It was obviously a trap. Someone had set up this roadblock, all that remained was finding out who.

They didn't have to wait long apparently as soon after they had exited the trucks and taken up a defensive position on the ground braced against the trucks with weapons pointed outwards, five people stepped out from behind the other vehicles. Each of them was heavily armed with a mix of hunting rifles, shotguns, and two with C7's. One of the men holding a C7 stepped forward.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen!" He called out with a grand sweep of his arms, rifle included "To Max's free Highway giveaway! The rules are simple. Each of you will step away from the vehicles, you will put all your worldly possessions on the ground in front of you. You will then walk away. In return, Bob here won't turn you all into red jelly" With that last statement the tarp covering the bed of the truck was thrown back revealing a man in blood stained navy work dress standing behind an M2 Browning .50 cal.

Clearly Bob had managed to get access to Esquilmault's weapon lock up and somehow had managed to walk out with one of the fiftys that are meant to be mounted on a ship. It wouldn't have taken very long to rig up a mount for the back of the truck, especially if they had anticipated the need.

Without that meat grinder currently pointed at them Jack would have been confidant in their odds, only one of the men with weapons looked like he actually knew how to handle it. But Bob up there wouldn't even need to be especially accurate. That gun would literally turn them into red coloured paste. Bob would have to be the first to die.

Twisting his body slightly to hide the movement, Jack keyed his mike and muttered "Anybody got a shot on the fifty gunner?"

"I got him" came the equally quiet reply from Craig over the headset.

Addressing Max, Jack called out "After careful consideration I'm afraid we're going to have to go with Fuck You on this one."

"Send it" he muttered into his headset.

Max looked annoyed for a second as he spread his arms and said "Well that's a shame because – "

They never did find out why it was a shame because at that exact moment Craig's rifle fired with a loud crack and Bob suddenly found himself with a bullet hole through his left eye. All hell broke loose after that. The other would be highwaymen all scattered, some took cover behind the vehicles while two others dove into a ditch. Only Max stood his ground, Jack had to admire his bravery for that at least. The dumb bastard raised his rifle and started blasting off on full auto. He was cut down with a quick burst from Andrews C9. Jack was still taking cover behind the door of the truck and shooting at anyone who poked their heads out. After about five minutes of trading fire back and forth the shooting died down. Scanning Jack didn't see anyone left standing

"How many do you count?" Jack called out.

"I got five including Mr Sailor over there." That came from Ramirez. As soon as he said that one of the guys who hid in the ditch popped up to run. A quick double tap from Joe's C7 put him back down in the dirt.

"Make that six" he said dryly.

"Alright, search the area then check the vehicles and I want that fifty taken care of." Jack called out as he started towards the bodies. There wasn't really much left. The bodies were still intact unlike after the armouries, but there was nothing to scavenge. The highwaymen had used all their ammo trying to win a firefight against opponents who had them out gunned. A quick check of their pockets turned up nothing useful. A few hundred thousand in cash was sitting in the cab of the truck but all it was good for was lighting fires these days. Sitting in the backseat was something that made Jack smile a little though only to himself. One of these men must have made a trip to the U.S. recently because sitting in the backseat of the truck was a carton of Marlboro Red cigarettes. He didn't really smoke more than one or so a night but it was a small comfort amidst everything that was going on.

Walking back to the MilCOTS with the carton of smokes tucked under one arm, he called out to everyone to mount up. As everyone moved back to the trucks, Mark shrugged and pulled a grenade out of his vest before yelling "Frag out!" and tossing it into the bed of the Ford with the fifty caliber in it. He jogged back to the trucks and made it about twenty meters away before it went off with a loud boom completely mangling the heavy machine gun. Before loading up Jack had everyone grab some food from the back of their trucks. The IMP rations weren't exactly the tastiest but they did the job.

The sun was quickly heading downwards by the time they were finished. Between Jack and Jessica sleeping in, to the hours spent in the armoury getting ready and the drive time they had quickly killed what little sunlight they had left. A quick poll found that other than Jack himself, only Craig had night vision. Even then that was only because like Jack, he had purchased his himself. Jack didn't want headlights announcing their every move and they couldn't afford to move as slowly as blackout lights would require. So Jack passed his off to Joe who was driving and climbed back into the passenger seat. The sun had now fallen below the horizon and darkness was more prevalent than light so he gave the order to switch to blackout mode. All it took was a small switch under the centre console and all the lights in and outside of the truck were turned off to be replaced by tiny sets of lights that could only be seen within twenty meters of the vehicles. With the NVG's on they a clear view of the darkness surrounding them.

As the trucks rumbled on into the night jack leaned back in his seat, dropped his scarf and shook out a cigarette. He pulled an old beat up brass zippo from the pocket of his vest and lit up the cancer stick. He closed his eyes as the smoke filled his lungs and blew out a grey cloud. He knew they were bad for him but fuck it, there was a very large chance that he was never going to leave this island again so he didn't really care. A sudden thought occurred to him that He wasn't the only smoker in the truck. He could practically feel Jess bouncing in her seat at the smell of the tobacco smoke. Grinning to himself he pulled another pack from the carton and tossed it into the seat behind him along with his zippo. There was a small squeal of excitement which was immediately followed by Jess leaning forward and pecking him on the cheek. That had certainly never happened before. Jess was flirty by nature, but even that was going further than usual for her. He brushed it off as an overestimated friendly gesture brought on by stress and enjoyed the last of his cigarette. After he was done he closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep as the Kilometers flew by.

"Hey, Jack"

Jacks eyes snapped open at the sound of his name. Checking his watch, he had been asleep for only 45 minutes. It had not been enough.

"Yeah what's up Joe?" He asked the man sitting next to him.

"We're approaching Nanaimo. I figured you'd want to know."

"Ok thanks." He looked out the window and saw the lights of the city sprawled before them. He knew they'd have to drive through downtown to get to where they were going and with the way everything else had gone it was more likely that they would be assaulting through the city. He didn't want to do that at night if it could be at all avoided so he keyed his mic and said. "Hey Craig pull over in this clearing up here."

The trucks pulled into a small gravel turn around area and shut off their engines. When everyone got out including the doctor they all congregated on Jack.

"Alright listen up. We're going to have to drive through the city to get to my place. There is an extremely high chance that were going to be taking fire the second we're within sight of… well anyone. So since it will probably happen anyway, I'd rather avoid a firefight at night when only two people have NVG's. We're going to camp here for the night and try to get some sleep. We'll assault our way through the city in the morning. Any questions?"

No one spoke up. They were all as bone tired as he was. Today had been an emotional roller coaster. It wasn't likely that anyone was going to get much sleep but patches here and there were better than nothing.

"Listen, I know none of us have any experience in the things we've had to do today. This is beyond anything we've ever been asked to do. But I am beyond proud as hell of all of you. You've held it together. All we need to do now is continue to hold it together, and we'll get out of this alive. Remember, we may not have all the specialized training the infantry has but combat road moves are what we ARE trained for. We're Canadian soldiers. This isn't going to beat us." Jack wasn't expecting a resounding cheer from his impromptu speech. He'd smack the shit out of them if they had but seeing the determined set to their shoulders made him feel better about their confidence for tomorrow and all further tomorrows. After they broke apart Jack had them back the MilCOTS into the treeline to help conceal the vehicles. Once the hasty cam over the windows and shiny parts and the Cam netting over the whole lot of it was deployed, the vehicles were practically invisible unless you were standing within five feet. After that was done they all pitched in in pulling out the tents Craig had packed earlier. Once the small four man tents were set up and a watch schedule was established, everybody climbed inside the tents and each tried to get some sleep.

The middle of the night was not Craig's idea of a fun time to be sitting in the forest along the side of the highway. He was a supply tech; his workday was spent inside a warehouse. Sitting against the front tire of a milcot wrapped in a ranger blanket with a set of NVG's looking for danger while cleaning his rifle was not what he enjoyed doing. But still, he supposed there were worse things. He could be dead right now. He probably would be if not for Jack. The guy could be a psychotic robot at times, well most of the time, but he had a cool head when it counted. Not to mention more money than God and the resources that went with it. Spitting a mouthful of brown coloured saliva into the dirt next to him, he shifted the wad of Redman chewing tobacco against his gums and picked up the bolt carrier for his C7 and reinserted it into the rifle. Without thinking about it he snapped off a quick function test and inserted a fresh mag. Racking the rifle he chambered a round and placed it on safe before getting up to take a quick walk around.

The trucks were well hidden and if he didn't have the Night vision monocle attached to his helmet he knew he never would have seen them. Mid January on Vancouver Island meant almost constant cloud cover. He was just glad that it wasn't raining. As he walked along behind the tents Craig had to admit that they had been remarkably lucky thus far. No one was dead or seriously injured. The trucks had made it out of the city in one piece and they were even managing to get some sleep tonight even if Craig had gotten the balls watch. It was one in the morning, darker than the inside of a bats asshole, and if you ignored the occasional sound of gunfire from the city you could almost believe everything was normal.

As he rounded the other side of the milcot a sudden flare of light in the monocle made him hiss in pain. It was the high beams from an old VW Golf as it rounded the corner coming out of Nanaimo. After lifting the monocle and allowing his eyes to adjust he saw the car just in time for it to swerve violently into the ditch. The headlights were destroyed by the impact as the engine sputtered out.

Before Craig had a chance to wonder if he should call out a stand to, waking everybody and drawing attention to their encampment, the sound of a car door opening followed by a muffled woman's voice yelling no, interrupted his train of thought. Flipping the monocle back down he took in the scene in front of him.

A blonde woman in her mid twenties was fighting her way out of the passenger seat while a larger man was trying to grab at her pants and pull her back in. Seeing the situation as easy to handle, Craig decided against his rifle as it would make to much noise. Slinging it behind his back, he drew his bayonet. The deadly piece of steel was made by the Ontario Knife Company and was more of a combat knife that could be attached to a rifle. The distinction was important because a pure bayonet was not designed to be sharpened. It could be, certainly and often was, but it would dull after cutting butter. The new OKC Bayonet was a knife, pure and simple, and as such was razor sharp.

By the time Craig had drawn closer the woman had managed to free herself from the car and was running blindly toward him in an attempt to get away from the man who had climbed out the door after her and was chasing her. He was furious and yelling things like. "Get back here you bitch! What did ya think the ride was for free? Get that sweet ass over here!" Hearing this is what made up Craig's mind. He had been forced to see too many rapes today only to drive past. He was a protector by nature. Call it old fashioned but it was what he was. The blonde girl from earlier today floated through his mind as he moved to intercept the man.

Neither one of them saw him as the woman ran past him and the man drew closer. He stepped to the side of her attacker, seemingly a ghost despite his size. As the man passed clearly illuminated to Craig through the green filter of the passive night vision, he reached out and grabbed the man. A tree trunk like arm wrapped around the mans throat cutting off all noise. All that managed to escape before he tightened his grip was a strangled grunt. Craig knew there was a major artery under the arm and stabbed his knife straight into the mans armpit. He held the thrashing man still as he sawed his blade back and forth ensuring the thumb thick blood vessel was severed. He could feel the hot blood pouring down his arm and the side of his combats but he held the man until he stopped thrashing. With his elevated heart rate and the fact that the artery was completely severed, he bled out in less than 30 seconds.

Releasing his grip, he let the man drop to the ground and wiped his blade on the dead mans sleeve. Returning his blade to the scabbard he looked around for the woman. She was about twenty paces away from running headlong into the first of the trucks. Running to catch up, he intercepted her before she hurt herself slamming into a truck she couldn't see. He reached out and wrapped a hand around her mouth to stop her from screaming as he pulled her tight. He was surprised at how hard she fought, biting into his hand while shifting her hips to the side and slamming her fist into his groin. He grunted in pain and almost let go. He could see spots dancing in front of his eyes but he held on.

"Jesus fuck woman would you stop? You're safe!" he hissed into her ear.

She stopped struggling as soon as she heard the new voice. Not relaxed exactly but frozen like a deer in the headlights.

"He's dead you're safe. Now if I release you will you stay calm and quiet? Nod if yes."

When he felt her shaky nod he let her go and stepped back. She stood extremely still, obviously still terrified and unsure what he was going to do. He introduced himself in an attempt to calm her down.

"My name is Private Craig Tawny, Canadian Forces what's your name?" he said in a soothing voice.

After taking a second to collect herself the woman replied "Krista Jocylene, th-thank you for saving me. I-I don't know what I would have done otherwise." She was clearly still shaken up and rightly so given what had nearly happened. It seemed to be a trend lately, they only came across women when they were about to be raped. She shifted her arms against the chill and that was when Craig really noticed her. The girl was beautiful in geeky mousy sort of way. She looked a lot like Emily Bett Rickards character Felicity Smoak from the show Arrow. Long blond hair held up in a pony tail framed a narrow angular face and a broad mouth. Dark defined eyebrows hovered over a set of square framed glasses. The glasses perched on her nose only drew attention to her eyes. The colour while hard to tell through the green filter of the night vision seemed to be a pale colour maybe blue or green. It was clear she was cold in the night chill as she was wearing a thin pair of jeans and a thin plaid button up shirt over a white tank top.

"Alright Kristy come over this way, before you freeze out here." He gently took her by the arm and led her over to where his ranger blanket rested on the ground against the truck tire.

As she followed him she suddenly spoke up. "How can you see anything right now? I literally can't see anything in front of my face. Though I guess that's not saying much given how terrible my eyesight is. To be fair though I blame my mother for that. Her whole side of the family is notorious for being basically blind. I think my great grandmother actually was blind."

Craig was happy to let her ramble. Aside from how cute it was, it was clearly her coping mechanism and he wasn't about to stop her from getting what comfort she could in the situation. He simply wrapped the blanket around her shoulders as he said "I'm wearing night vision. Now stay right here while I go and get the guy in charge." While he respected Jack, he still wasn't sure what to call him. Master Corporal wouldn't make any sense to anyone not military. Besides, he had made it clear that no matter who joined, he was in charge. He couldn't fault him for that. He had done an alright job so far but still what should he call him? Sir? Jack? Boss? Commander? El Jefe?

As he approached the tent that Jack slept in he wondered how he would react to the things that had happened while he slept.

The boy was covered in blood. The front of his striped shirt was soaked in red stemming from the huge gash across his throat. He was staring up at him and smiling with dead eyes. He could hear the father screaming somewhere in the background. As he looked Jack could see that the boy's hand was being held by a blonde fifteen-year-old girl with torn leggings and a knit sweater bunched up under her arms. She was missing the top part of her skull. To his horror she too was smiling. Off to the side was a feminine shape laying on a couch covered in a blood soaked blanket. The body sat up to reveal the other girl that he couldn't save. He wished they weren't all smiling.

"Jack wake up" they said together. It was horrible. He dropped to his knees and started crying.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you! I'm sorry I was too late!"

"Jack seriously wake the fuck up" was the only reply he got. He knew this was his fault. It was all his faul-

Jack suddenly snapped awake when he felt a boot connect with his leg. Lightly to be sure but when Craig Tawny kicked you, even light pressure felt like a bulldozer.

"Ah what the fuck Craig?" Jack snapped out as he rubbed his thigh.

"Don't be such a pussy, listen something happened you need to get out here. We're not in any immediate danger though." Came the gruff reply from the bear sized man.

Grumbling to himself, Jack rolled out of his sleeping bag and started pulling his clothes on. Five minutes later he climbed out, fully dressed minus his vest, helmet, and scarf. Armed only with the .45 in it's holster on his thigh he walked over to the soft glow of the red filtered flashlight.

Jack wanted to swear when he got closer. Figures he goes to sleep for… actually he didn't know how long it had been but when he wakes up, they've picked up another stray. She seemed rather attached to Craig, though that could be stress.

As he approached, Craig stood and filled him in on everything that happened starting with the crash and ending with going to wake up Jack. When he heard what happened he did swear.

"Fuck seriously? Where's the car?" As Craig pointed the direction of the crashed vehicle, Jack pulled his own red filtered flashlight out of his pocket. Red light was extremely useful in tactical situations for two reasons. The main one was that no matter how bright, red light would not ruin your night vision. That's why most alarm clocks displayed the time in red. The second reason was that it was generally dimmer and a lot harder to see at night. You could look directly at a red light from thirty meters away and have a hard time seeing it. The downside was that it WAS a lot dimmer. All Jack could see was what was directly in front of his feet so he nearly tripped over the body of Krista's attacker. _ Just once I want to save a woman from a nice normal murder attempt. It would say much better things about men in general_.

The site of the body was gruesome to be sure. His face and neck were clean but everything from the chest down was completely soaked in blood. It looked like he had been covered in black ink in the red glow but Jack knew better. Craig had done a good job. Moving on, Jack arrived at the car. Its front end was completely smashed in with both airbags deployed. Searching through it, he found a Glock 22 with about a hundred rounds of 40 caliber ammo. Admiring the weapon, he tucked it into the back of his pants and put the extra ammunition into one of his leg pockets temporarily. Further searching revealed a gym bag filled with women's clothing and photos of a younger Krista with an older couple he assumed were her parents.

Zipping up the gym bag he started back over to the trucks. As he arrived he placed the bag on the ground just out of arms reach of the blonde newcomer.

"I believe this belongs to you." Jack said stepping back from the bag and sitting down across from her. Krista got up and retrieved the bag, returning and sitting even closer to Craig this time. Theory confirmed, Craig officially had a follower.

"Craig you can get some sleep. I'll stay up the rest of the night. I'd like to talk to our new arrival for a little while." Krista grabbed Craig's arm in a death grip when he got up to go back to the tents, so he shrugged and sat back down.

"I think I'll stay for a little while, at least until your done with her. Then we'll both go and get some sleep." He said this while glancing at the still terrified blonde woman out of the corner of his eye. Jack could see her visibly relax at the news that Craig wasn't going anywhere.

Over the next twenty minutes Jack managed to get the girls story out of her. Krista Jocylene had just graduated from UVic a month ago with a Masters in Computer Science. She had decided to celebrate by driving up island and staying with some friends while they spent the week partying. She had been there when the news of the outbreak hit and everyone was asked to remain where they were to prevent the spread. She and her friends had been among the many missed in the evacuation. She had been woken up by the sound of her friend stabbing her boyfriend of six years to death with a chef's knife. Apparently he had been cheating on her with someone from work. She had grabbed her bag and run outside to find the city in chaos. Nanaimo wasn't in much better shape than Victoria apparently. Worse even if that was possible. After realizing that she forgot her car keys inside, she started running rather than risk going back inside. She could hear screaming coming from her friend's roommates and wasn't willing to risk it. After running all over the city trying to stay alive for most of the day, she finally found herself sitting on the curb of a quiet street, gym bag next to her crying her eyes out and waiting to die.

Then a red Volkswagen Golf pulled up in front of her and the driver offered to get her out of the city. Night was falling and he was the first person that wasn't trying to attack her so she jumped on his offer. That of course led to where they now were. Jack listened intently and Krista clung to Craig as she spoke like she might be swept away if she let go.

Jack didn't know why but he trusted her. He may come to regret this decision later but that sounded like a Future Jack problem.

"Ok Krista" at the mention of her name she looked up fearfully. "You can come with us. Only thing is until we get where we're going It's going to be incredibly dangerous. We have to go back into Nanaimo tomorrow. I can't guarantee your safety, but I can guarantee we will all do everything in our power to look after you ok?"

She swallowed hard when he mentioned going back into Nanaimo but a quick glance at Craig sitting there half asleep with a wad of dip bulging out his cheek set her shoulders and she nodded determinedly. Jack had to resist the urge to chuckle. That man was doomed and he had no idea.

"Alright Tawny, take blondie here and get to bed. I'll take the rest of the watch. Set her up in my bag, she looks half frozen." The thought of trying to sleep again had Jacks stomach flipping in knots. After fetching his rifle and gear, Jack sat with his back to the truck tire. Wrapped up in his own ranger blanket with the NVG's clipped to his helmet and C8 across his knees, he tried not to let his demons win. The sound of an agonized wail in the back of his mind told him he was losing.

The next morning Jack had them up as the sky was lightening from pitch black to a dark blue on one side. Sometime during the night, the clouds had cleared and the stars had shone through. No matter how many times he saw it he would never get used to seeing the night sky through night vision. By the time they had the camp packed up and were eating a breakfast of cold IMP's the sky had lightened considerably though the sun had not yet crested the horizon. Flicking away the butt of his cigarette Jack reaffixed the scarf and goggles over his face and signalled everybody to mount up. Today he would be lead vehicle to make it easier to find where they were going especially if they were going to be hit as hard as he thought they would. Climbing into the passenger seat, he checked to make sure everyone was ready to go before telling Joe to head out. Craig was still driving the other vehicle with Krista sitting behind him next to Tricia. She had been just the same in the light of day, never straying more than five feet from his side. Everybody was surprised to see her among them the next day. Jess commented to Craig that it appeared he now had a duckling in tow. Craig merely grunted non committedly though Jack saw him smile as soon as Jess turned around. The drive into Nanaimo was a fairly quiet one. There was still the sound of gunfire throughout the city but as they passed the first few buildings it almost seemed as if all of Jacks fears were for nothing. While it was technically downtown, they weren't exactly driving on main street were all the fighting seemed to be concentrated. It had died down considerably overnight.

"Maybe our luck has turned for once." He mused to himself. It would be nice after all.

He spoke too soon.

Up ahead a man wearing a red sweater with the hood pulled up whipped around the corner holding a hunting rifle, aimed and fired. The front windshield exploded as the bullet caught Joe right under the eye. The back of his head exploded all over Mark who was sitting behind him. Luckily after passing through Joe's skull It bounced harmlessly off of Mark's helmet. The truck swerved violently to the right as Joe's body slumped over and Jack had to reach over and straighten the wheel. He could hear Jess screaming into the radio "CONTACT! Contact front! Joe's hit!" Jack was too busy trying to keep the truck moving and on the road as fire starting pouring in from all around them. Pushing down on Joe's now limp leg to keep the accelerator down, he struggled to get his body out of the way. It seemed like every building they passed had a shooter in the window, most of them were wearing something with red on it.

"Help me get him out of the way!" he yelled into the backseat. Another pair of hands came from behind and helped Jack muscle the skinny man out of the driver's seat all while he tried to keep the truck on the road. He managed to get his foot over and on the gas to keep the truck moving. Their speed was the only thing keeping them alive right now. If they stopped, they were dead.

Once Joe's body was safely in the backseat he hopped over the centre console and into the driver's seat. He got there just in time for another round to hit the windshield and blow it inward. Another round entered grazing his temple. The shockwave disoriented him as it hit the edge of his goggles, shattering the plastic and gouging out the side of his head. He ignored the pain as another round hit him in the leg through the door.

Taking stock Jack looked around as he accelerated taking turns fast enough to cause the tires to lose traction and drift around the corner. Marks C9 behind him was keeping heads down as it blasted away but it was about to run out of ammo by Jacks estimate. Same with Drew's in the other vehicle. Jess was blasting at anything with a weapon and actually hitting about one out of four things she shot at. There were so many empty mags, casings, C9 links and empty boxes on the floor that Jack thought it had to surely be covering their boots. He managed to ignore all the hot brass from the machine gun that got caught between his vest and skin. Craig was keeping up as best as he could with all the sharp turns Jack was taking and it was only a matter of time before – **CHUNK** _hhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiisssssssssssssss. _Jack decided in the back of his mind that he really needed to learn to shut his fucking mouth. Steam was now pouring in thick clouds out of the front of the engine as the unarmoured radiator took a round directly into it. It wouldn't be long now before the truck would overheat and seize completely. As he turned another corner he saw someone out of his side window preparing to throw what looked like a pipe bomb in front of the truck. Before he could think about it, Jack drew the 1911 from it's holster and shot the would be bomber through the driver's side window. Amazingly he actually hit him and the pipe bomb dropped at his feet where it exploded after they had passed.

Just as Jack was starting to think it couldn't possibly get any worse and that they were all about to die, he saw the turn off ahead. As they made the turn it was like night and day. Once they were off the main street the steady stream of incoming fire seemed to die off. Jack followed the winding road as it led them further out of the city. Jack could feel the tension leaking out of his shoulders as they grew closer to their destination. It was good that they were getting so close because the engine had stopped steaming and was now making some rather stressed noises.

When the main gate to his compound came into view he could swear that he had never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. Just as they were rolling up to it, the engine gave a final chug and died. He managed to get it into neutral before the transmission seized up and they coasted up to the gate.

Climbing out he suddenly remembered that he had been shot in the leg and collapsed onto the ground with a yell of pain. Tricia was on him a moment later checking the wound and bandaging it tightly.

"How are the others?" he managed to get out through groans of pain.

"Everyone from our truck is fine" Tricia replied in her crisp British accent. "Minor cuts and grazing from glass and close calls. Looks to be the same with your vehicle. I'd say you got the worst of it. Where's Joe?"

When Jack shook his head she nodded sadly and moved on the check the others. Jack pulled himself to his feet. He had gotten Joe killed getting everyone here. Might as well make sure it wasn't in vain. Using his rifle as a crutch he hobbled over to the gate and punch in a code followed by his thumb print. As the gate beeped and swung open he looked at the rather beat up crew of individuals before him. They were all covered in blood and sweat to one degree or another and looked like they had run a marathon covered in burning coals and barbed wire. Pulling off the now useless goggles, and lowering his scarf he shook out another cigarette and lit it. This had been without a doubt the longest day of their lives.

And it wasn't even 9:00 yet

**A/N: Oh No Joe! Not going to lie, originally I was going to kill off Craig but then the scene at the campsite just kind of happened and suddenly I have a new character and Craig gets to live. Anyway Next chapter we see the house! And all the high tech goodies that are in the secret mansion of a tech genius. Cheers!**


	4. Chapter 4: Settling In

**A/N Well here's Chapter 4. You may notice some differences in the background story and that's because I'm planning a full rewrite of Chapter 1. Too short and too many plot holes. Not to mention just not a very good premise. Anyway we finally get to see Jack's house and the full extent of the kind of tech he's developed. I did warn that it was going to get pretty high tech later on so… yeah fun times. Oh and if you're ever bored check out my tumblr ****fremen1992**** I post regular updates on how the story is progressing.**

**Chapter 4: Settling In**

The tension being released into the air was evident amongst all of them as they all stepped through the gates. As soon as the heavy iron bars thudded back into place Jack let out a sigh of relief. It had taken longer than he would have liked for him and his companions to unload the truck full of gear they had brought. Food, personal kit, and tents were heavy especially after they were already worked down to the bone, going through this dystopian hell.

With the truck stripped of everything they needed and loaded up into the second, still barely running Milcot everyone piled in anyplace they could. There was absolutely no room in the bed. It was piled to the rafters with weapons and everything they had hauled out of Jack's vehicle. With the shocks already bottomed out the vehicle seemed to give off a groan when two extra people piled in. Mark perched hunched over on the radio mount in the backseat, and Jess climbed onto Drew's lap giving a giggle at how red his face got even though he tried to hide it. Even Jack had to hold back a chuckle when she suddenly shot up straight and looked back at him as his face got even redder as he muttered an apology.

For himself, Jack walked alongside the vehicle. His helmet was hanging buckled off the back of his vest and his identity concealing scarf looped loosely around his neck. He needed neither now that they were inside the compound. Granted, there was still a chance of somebody climbing the wall before they got there however they would have needed a ladder to do it. They were moving at a crawl for two reasons, one was that Jack would be hopping on board in a minute or two and the other was that they weren't sure if the truck would survive going any faster, in this fragile state.

After another minute of walking up the paved driveway with the cover of heavy forested surroundings, they came across a small brick utility building. Jack broke off from the vehicle after signalling for them to wait. Walking up to the door he keyed in a short four-digit passcode. The lock gave off a beep followed by a click of the lock disengaging. Pulling open the door he turned on the lights and walked over to the two things he was searching for. One was a large industrial breaker switch, more of a lever really, and the other was a red valve wheel attached to a length of water pipes coming out of the wall. He flipped the breaker and heard the hum of the transformers behind him as he connected the main power supply to the house. Turning to the valve he braced himself and slowly began turning the valve that was connected to the water main. The rushing of water and a light turning from red to green told him he had accomplished his task. He had no worry of losing utilities as he had his own wells dug for water and power was supplied through a combination of solar panels and wind turbines. Even with the higher than normal power draw the house caused he was often selling the excess electricity to BC Hydro.

With the job done, he walked back outside and secured the door behind him. He walked back over to the truck and climbed up onto the hood, moving his helmet out of the way and leaning back against the passenger side of the windshield. Once he was in a comfortable and secure position, he waved Craig forwards and the truck continued its slow lumber up the hill.

Five minutes later they rounded the last tree covered corner and the cabin finally came into view. Calling it a cabin was a bit like calling an aircraft carrier a row boat. It was a massive sprawling two story mansion. It had about as much armour as an aircraft carrier too. Foot thick, steel reinforced concrete walls that could withstand a direct hit from a 105mm anti tank round. Most of the front of the house was taken up by massive floor to ceiling windows made from a composite bullet proof glass that Jack had designed himself. In the event of an attack three-inch-thick steel shutters could be lowered over the windows. None of this heavy armour was apparent to the casual observer however. The entire building was sided with darkly stained British Columbia Pine, cut from the property. It gave the house the look of a modernized hunting lodge. The main area of the house had an A-frame which looked like a giant windowed triangle. On each side there were more traditionally rectangular wings. Overall it looked like a triangle sticking up through a rectangle. The whole front end of the triangles was made up of windows giving a clear view into the house/cabin. Across the entire second floor stretched a large deck with access from the sitting room and each bedroom. The left side of the house when facing it was almost entirely made up of a massive two car garage and workshop on the lower floor. The upper floor was a complete in-law suite. It even had a separate full bathroom and laundry. The other side of the house was all bedrooms both upper and lower floors. Even the basement looked more like a dormitory hall with ten rooms in it than a house. All in all, the house was gorgeous and it had been far too long since Jack had been here.

Placed off to the side of the main building was a smaller more utilitarian looking single floor building. That was the private clinic that Jack had had built on a whim. It was as completely stocked as a hospital emergency room, even including a small operating theater. He had been glad when they came across Tricia, as he was sure she would feel right at home when she saw it.

As they pulled up in front of the main house Jack jumped down from the hood of the truck and walked over to the double front doors. The security at the front door was even more intense requiring a 16 key password and a retinal scan before it would open for him.

"It's only because I've been away" He explained. "When I leave I set it to an unoccupied lockdown. A full security lockdown is much worse." As the door opened, he walked in and couldn't help but smile. He really did love this place and didn't get out here nearly as much as he wanted to. Directly in front of the doorway was a large hardwood staircase leading up to the main floor. They all abandoned the truck as they followed him inside, and up the stairs. The main floor was just as gorgeous as the rest of the house. To the left down a short hallway was a door that Jack explained led to the in law suite above the garage. To the right was the main sitting room and the kitchen. The sitting room was large and full of comfortable looking couches and recliners, all oriented towards the massive angled windows and the big fireplace centered in front of it. The rafters were all exposed and made out of bare logs. The kitchen was any cook's wet dream. The first thing to be noticed was a large granite topped island, lined with stools that extended from one wall to over halfway onto the other side. It doubled as an informal dining area and prep station. Along the adjacent wall were all the stoves. First, a gas powered spider top next to a large restaurant sized flat top grill. Next to that, was a more conventional barbecue-style grill and a single basket deep fryer. Bringing up the end up against the wall, were a set of double stacked convection ovens. Jack was not ashamed to admit that he held a deep passion for cooking. The back wall was taken up by dish and prep sinks, as well as a commercial dishwasher. Along the wall across from the stoves was storage. Fridge, freezers, dry pantry, and utensils made it so that there was absolutely no wall left unoccupied.

Past the kitchen and sitting room, was another wide hallway that led to the main bathroom on one side and Jack's bedroom on the other. At the end of the hall was Jack's destination. He led the group down there, grinning to himself as their excited comments filled the recently silent and dead home, when they took in his private retreat. The door at the end of the hallway didn't fit in at all with the décor of the rest of the house. While everything else was warm colours and bare wood, this door was made of solid brushed steel. Mounted above the door in stainless steel lettering was the name "Wonderland", mounted below the door handle, was yet another keypad and card scanner combo. While not as demanding as the front door, this room still required an eight-digit code before it let him in with the now characteristic beep and click of the lock disengaging.

"Krista, I think you'll find this particular room to be your favourite." Jack addressed to the blonde woman as he led the way inside. The rest of his companions (minus the doctor who had branched off earlier towards the clinic), exchanged looks with each other at the slurring in his speech. When they crossed the threshold into the air conditioned room, Jack once again smiled to himself when he heard Krista gasp. The room they entered was the smallest one yet. It was closer to the size of the utility shack they had passed on the way in. Completely dark with no windows, the only light came from the LED indicators on the two large mainframe towers up against the far wall. Against the wall to their left was a large glass topped desk that stretched from wall to wall. Hanging above it and angled downwards were three massive monitors that took up the remaining space on the wall. Cables ran from under the desk to the mainframes like snakes. In front of the desk, placed off to the left of the two comfortable looking computer chairs, was a waist high cylindrical podium about as big around as an oxygen tank and completely smooth. Across from the desk, was a plain door that looked very similar to all the other bedroom doors in the house.

Jack hobbled over to the desk and pulled off his right glove. He had to pause to wipe the blood off of his hand. Where had the blood come from? He couldn't remember anything very well. He knew he had been shot earlier and was probably losing a lot of blood even with the bandaging the doctor had done. That didn't explain why there was blood on his hand. Why did his shoulder hurt? Wow the blood really made his handprint stand out more. It was actually quite fascinating. Right… focus.

Once his hand was free of his own gore he placed his palm flat on the desk. It lit up with a green outline of his hand and beeped, the outline flashing three times before he heard the cooling fans on the mainframe spool up. The pedestal to his left began to give off a hum as well as lights recessed around the inner rim on top came to life. The three monitors above him lit up as well and a text cursor began blinking against the black screen. Struggling to keep from swaying he danced his fingers across the desk and a keyboard lit up in green on it's surface. It was difficult to remember the start up command. He couldn't recall ever being this tired before in his life. Finally, and with great difficulty he typed in the command he was looking for.

"start_program ANNI"

As the Mainframe hum got even louder and the lights on the pedestal flared briefly he finally succumbed to the exhaustion that was clawing at him and hit the ground with a thud. The last thing he saw before blackness consumed him was a woman's figure spring into being on top of the pedestal.

When Jack woke, it felt like he was suffering the world's worst hangover. The beeping coming from next to him needed to stop NOW. His head felt heavy as he looked around for the source of the beep. Looking next to him, he saw that he was hooked up to an ECG machine monitoring his heart rate. Apparently, he discovered when he tried to sit up, he was hooked up to an IV as well. Also, it would appear that he was naked underneath the scratchy hospital sheets. _Wait, Hospital? _Panicking, Jack looked around frantically worried that he had been taken to the hospital in the city. They had just gotten through there, why would they take him back?

The increased rate of beeps coming from the ECG were what drew Tricia to him from the small office in the other room. She had been pleasantly surprised to see how well stocked the small clinic had been. She had seen hospitals in her native England with less equipment. There was even a small X-Ray machine and an MRI tucked away in the back. She directed her attention to the currently struggling man on the bed. She owed her life to this man and would do anything he ever asked of her. However, she had had to put two litres of blood in him after stitching him up, and if he undid her work with his thrashing she would cheerfully kill him herself.

"Jack Hawkins, it took me two hours to remove the bullets from your thigh and shoulder and repair the damage. I had to replace two litres of lost blood, and you almost died twice on the table. If you do anything to hurt yourself because you're thrashing about like a Nancy, I _swear_ I will beat you to death with a bedpan. I will find a bedpan, and I will beat you to death with it." She gave him her glare that had made the unruliest of patients and nurses back down. He went still immediately. She had to fight back a smile. Always trust the glare, it never fails.

"Very well, now that you've calmed down. You're safe and you're in the clinic near your house, which I must say is very impressive. You have been out for nearly two days which has been enough time for everyone to come and check on you at least twice. You're quite lucky to be alive you know. However, with my expert care you should be able to move into the house in another three or four days."

This last part was enough to cause Jack to bolt upright. Or at least, he tried to. He winced as he pulled at his stitches which caused Tricia to leap to the bed.

"You bloody idiot! Didn't I _just_ finish telling you to hold still?" She checked on his bandages to make sure he hadn't torn a stitch. Finding nothing wrong she cuffed him upside the head for the trouble.

"Ow!" the man in the bed complained, "You have the bedside manner of a gang of angry gorillas high on meth, you know that Doc?" He paused for a second and continued in what she was sure was supposed to be a reasonable tone. "Listen I can't stay here, ok? I have things to check on with the house. I need to make sure the security system is operational, and I have to open up access to the garage and armoury. Not to mention the supplies."

She had to bite back a smile at the imagery. "Wonderful bedside manner aside, you are not going anywhere until I say you can. I have the proper drugs in here to put you into a coma for a week, if that is what I choose. We've been safe so far. Krista managed to get the computer working and managed to hack into a rather well known companies mapping satellite from what I hear. She claims she had help, but refuses to say who from, little brat. She's been monitoring the property remotely. As for the garage and armoury, you brought out enough weapons with you to outfit a small army. Nobody has any interest in going anywhere, anytime soon so we have no need of vehicles. And as horrible as they are, those rations you brought with you have been keeping us happily fed for some time now. We have survived and will continue to survive until I _say _you are well enough to leave this bed." She threw in the glare again for good measure and was pleased to see all the fight go out of him.

"Fine! Horrible Nazi doctor…. You win. Three days…. I'll stay here for three days. But could you at least bring me some food Trish? I'm hungry as hell. Once I'm out of here, I'll bust out the fresh food." He said this as he leaned back into the pillows and tried to get comfy without aggravating his stitches.

She was happy with calling this a victory. He really only needed two. The third was just her being careful. When she was sure he wasn't going to try and sneak out as soon as she left the room, she began the short walk over to the main house to get him something to eat. It was nice getting to feel like a doctor again.

Krista was in her element. Her fingers danced over the touch screen keyboard/desk/scanner. The amount of resources she could control from this "Wonderland" was astounding. Like any good computer science major, she was also a skilled hacker and with Jack's secure internet access that bypassed the web blackout, she was currently flipping her way through any media coverage and government files she could get her digital hands on. Anything that related to the evacuation, or "The Purge" as it was being called. What she was finding was both ludicrous and terrifying. She knew things now that horrified her beyond belief.

The outbreak was fake.

All the people that supposedly had been killed by smallpox were engineered to look that way by an American private military corporation known as the Last Man Battalion. These contractors had been hired by the Canadian government to go into these towns and slaughter everyone using chemical weapons. The only medical personnel allowed in had been carefully selected and paid by the government to claim that it was a mutated strain of smallpox.

The general population had no idea what was happening here. Oh they had a vague idea sure, but they didn't know the true horrors of what was being allowed to happen. For one thing, they had no idea that there were people still here. As far as the world knew, there had been a viral outbreak of some strain of smallpox. There were even professional pictures of quarantine facilities, onboard cargo ships off the coast that was screening evacuees. Plenty of LMB soldiers were on site too, disguised as Canadian Forces to "maintain order" or so they said. Every now and then, some poor sap was given a positive result and was dragged off by the contractors. Supposedly they were all killed by the virus before their families could be contacted. Krista felt for these people. They had been told that there was a viral outbreak and that they needed to leave. They were just doing what they had thought best for their families. There was even talk of a monument on parliament hill to honour the victims who lost their lives in the evacuation. Convenient way to cover up the people who would actually be missed, she supposed "Oh your brother never left the island? Well it says here that he was killed by the virus, so sorry. Here's a cash settlement, take it and shut the fuck up"

All of it paled in comparison to the other thing Krista read in the government files. This whole thing had been planned with the American government. Canada would provide a lawless environment, free of interference and in exchange the United States would start transporting all their death row inmates and those serving life sentences. For a fee, of course. Apparently, twenty thousand a head was very appealing to our new Prime minister and his cabinet. Krista had to admit, it was a brilliant, albeit draconian solution. It was effective population control while making millions- if not billions off of the United States' overcrowded prisons. The prisoners would be offered a choice, stay and serve out your sentence, or live what life you could in Canada's new penal colony. It was the same offer that had been extended in the prisons in Canada. From what she could see, many – too many had accepted.

"I can hardly believe the horse shite I'm readin" came the heavily accented voice from over Krista's shoulder. She was ashamed to admit that she jumped in her seat. She had completely forgotten that her new Irish companion was even there. She supposed that calling her Irish was a bit of a misnomer given that the "girl" for all intents and purposes had never actually left this room. That was the personality she chose so Krista was willing to go with it.

The Irish girl in question was named A.N.N.I., the Advanced Neural Networked Intelligence. Everyone just called her Anni. The doctor was the only one who hadn't met her yet, not having been in the room when Jack collapsed. Apparently designing and writing the software for her had been one of his best achievements. Creating her and selling off her dumbed down copies to the American intelligence organizations had made him a billionaire practically over night. Anni was the genuine article however. Jack, at the age of 22 had created true artificial intelligence because he was bored with creating new armour technologies. He was smart enough to know however from the moment she first said "Hey boss" and decided on her own image on the holographic pedestal behind her that he could never allow anyone else to unlock AI's. Not yet at any rate. So he kept her here, safe with the internet to play with. Krista was sympathetic towards Anni when she first heard that, but the computer assured her that she preferred it that way. He had tried to program in a version of Asimov's three laws but she had merely laughed at them. She liked humans, as she put it, and would never hurt anyone without them first giving her a reason.

Krista had to admit she was a fan of Anni's sense of style. She was slim and probably would have stood at about 5'4" if she was full sized as opposed to a foot tall. Ripped skinny jeans, Chuck Taylor's, a sleeveless Ramones t-shirt, and short blue hair with the sides and back shaved gave her a punk look.

Currently the Irish AI was looking over Krista's shoulder with a disgusted look on her face.

"I don't know what's worse. The fact that they think they can get away with this, or the fact that they are."

Krista glanced at her over her shoulder before looking back at the screens and replying "Well I'd go with the fact that not only are they getting away with it, but people are actually buying the cover story, which tells me that they've paid off a lot of people to keep this quiet."

"Well can't you just send a couple emails? Tell people what's really going on?" Anni was now sitting cross legged on her podium, watching Krista work.

"To what end? The world is too busy being caught up in this smallpox scare. Nobody is willing to come here and see for themselves, they think anybody left here is dead. No, what I need is a way to put together a package and send it everywhere. Make it so that everyone sees it and it is impossible to ignore. If the first thing people talk about isn't the Canadian smallpox scare but what the Canadian government did to the people here, eventually they will have no choice but to allow investigators." She paused and chuckled ruefully. "Not to mention a way to hide that fact that it came from here. How long do you think it would be after sending it before the house gets hit with a Harpoon missile? Two days? One day? A couple of hours? No I need to be careful about this and that means that this is going to take time."

While Krista got back to work sifting through the government files Anni brought up the Satellite feeds of the city and watched as the chaos settled into a routine of death. She knew she wasn't able to cry, but she wanted to.

The three days passed with Jack getting more and more restless. He would have tried sneaking out long before but Tricia had this way of glaring at him that absolutely terrified him. It was ridiculous, he knew that after everything he had already been through but there it was. He would decide that finally, this was the time, he was going now and nothing the short doctor said would stop him this time. But every time he came to the decision it was like she knew. She wouldn't even get up anymore. She would just lean out the doorway in her chair and arch an eyebrow. How did she know? Jack was convinced she was secretly the Kwisatz Haderach and spent her time in the office of doom eating spice. How else could she always know?

While he had been stuck here Krista had come to visit him. She told him what she had discovered while digging through the government files. Jack had needed a bucket to throw up into when he heard. After he managed to get his heaving stomach under control he told Krista to keep digging until she found something they could use to expose them.

Finally, on the third day after changing his bandages and checking his stitches, Tricia pronounced him well enough to move into the house.

"Well as long as you take it easy you should heal up nicely. I'm warning you though if you tear these stitches, I'll have your ass"

Jack stood up, doing his best not to show how unsteady he was and began pulling on the t shirt, sweat pants, and running shoes left for him. After he finished dressing he turned to her and said. "Thanks Doc. I'll be sure to be careful." As he turned he muttered under his breath _I'm onto you, you bene gesserit witch. You and your weirding ways. _

"What was that last bit?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all" even though he told himself she didn't scare him, he still quickened his pace out of the clinic.

Being out of that hospital bed and back outside in the light rain was one of the best feelings in the world, he decided. Breathing clean air and ignoring the odd sound of gunfire made him happier than he could ever remember. The sun was on its way down, as he slowly made his way inside The Cabin. However, the stairs presented another problem. It took him three minutes of trying to struggle up them before Jessica poked her head around the corner at the top and rushed down to help him up.

"Easy, boss" she said, as she took his good arm over his shoulder and helped him up the last few stairs. "I think Trish might actually murder you, if you tear out your stitches."

"You let me worry about madam Muad'Dib" he groaned out once they reached the top.

"Madam what?" Jess looked confused as hell, which made Jack realize that he had said that last part out loud.

"Hmm? Oh nothing, c'mon let's get over to Wonderland. Is Anni up and running?" They began walking down the hallway towards Wonderland with Jack limping, and Jess hovering. Craig, Drew, and Mark were in the sitting room playing what looked like a game of poker. When they saw him they all made to walk over and see if he was alright. Jack waived them off saying "You guys know there's a massive TV downstairs right? With an Xbox?" Their surprised looks told him that they had not in fact known that. "Anyway, someone go and get the doctor and everyone meet me at the bottom of the stairs in five minutes. I've got some toys to show you guys." With that they cleaned up their game and Drew headed out towards the clinic.

Once they reached the door to Wonderland, Jack had to key in his code again. One of his many tasks in here was to program key cards for everyone. When the door beeped and clicked he swung it open and limped in. Immediately he was greeted with a "Hey, Jack" thrown over Krista's shoulder and a cheerful "Hey, Boss" from Anni. Sighing, he sank into the second chair in front of the massive monitors.

"Anni, can you establish contact with TAC-6? I want a supply drop within two days." One of the many ways his company had of giving back was a complete air wing of cargo planes that could drop any supplies he wanted to send for disaster relief. Because they were for disaster relief they should have no problem getting through the restricted airspace that the government had set up soon after the "outbreak". Can't have people scattering across the globe to spread the fake smallpox. He knew that some people would call using those planes for himself to be misappropriation of company resources, but it was ok. He knew the owner.

"Just the standard food and clothing order, four males and three females. Make sure there's eggs, coffee, and cigarettes"

"Sure thing, Boss. I assume you want this off the public books, and kept quiet within the company?"

"That would be correct, thanks Anni." Jack didn't want anyone knowing he was on the Island. Not until he had more information. It shouldn't be too hard, he kept out of the public eye as a general rule.

Next on his list, was activating the perimeter security.

"Alright Anni next up, I want perimeter security brought online, with alerts of anyone who approaches too close to the wall and gates. Initiate a sensor scan of the property as well." When she gave the affirmative, he was able to finally relax. All along the walls, sentry guns were popping up out of hidden recesses. He had to keep them hidden when not in use, because it was _highly _illegal. They could be set to auto target and would shoot anything that moved within a hundred metres of the wall. They could also be controlled manually by both Anni, or an operator. Once he had confirmation that they were online with negative targets, he passed off control to Anni and told her to request permission from him before engaging a target. The sensor scan told him that there was nobody hiding somewhere on the property sneaking up to the house. These scans would be performed once during the day and every hour at night.

Once he was positive the grounds were secure he grabbed seven RFID cards and began programming them to each of them. Some people were given more permissions than others. For instance, Krista was the only one given access to Wonderland. There were several laptops around the house for personal use. The doctor was the only one with access to the clinic's pharmacy, and Mark had access to the armoury. Jack of course had access to everything. Once he found out where everyone was sleeping he would program their cards to their personal door locks. With these tasks done, he regretfully pushed himself up and out of the chair and began making his way back to the door.

"Krista you need to come out here for this. Anni can handle security now, she'll let us know if there's a problem." He continued out the door as she got up to follow him, pulling her knit sweater closer around her.

Everyone was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs as he arrived there. With some help from the doctor, he managed to get back down without much of a problem. Did her eyes flash blue for a second? Shaking it off as his imagination, he passed out the cards he had just made up to everyone and went over to the garage door set off to the right of the stairs.

"Welcome to my playground everyone. I can't even begin to tell you how many of my products were born within this door." Scanning his card, he led them through and turned on the lights. Just like the kitchen was a cook's wet dream, the garage was the same to anyone mechanically inclined. Tool boxes lined every wall. To their immediate right in the corner, was a metal working area with everything from welding gear and grinders, to a belt sander and a full sized forge and anvil. Clamps, hammers, and files hung from the racks above the workbench, next to a row of black smith tools. Off in the far back corner was a caged in area that served as an armoury and secure storage. Between the cage and the metal shop was a door that led to his parts room. He needed those parts too because sitting in front of the garage doors, each on their own lift were two vehicles. One was literally taken straight from one of his favourite video games when he was younger. HALO's M12 Force Application Vehicle, more commonly known as the Warthog, had been built in real life before. His, however, was much better than the version rented by movie companies. His was armoured where it could be given the vehicle's lack of roof and doors, but most important was the engine. He had built it for a reason. He had finally cracked the hydrogen electrolysis a year ago. People had tried in the past, but he was the first that he knew of to make it work. The vehicle in front of him had been constructed as a marketing gimmick meant to display the capabilities of a hydrogen injected engine. Simply pour water into the gas tank, and then it is converted into hydrogen and oxygen, and then ignited.

These were the reasons he gave people anyway. The truth of the matter as to why he built it was much simpler. Deep down he was a giant nerd, with way too much money and brains. Plus, he hated doing anything halfway so he built it as accurate to the game version as was physically possible. The second vehicle was a much more practical application of his engines. It was an American military Humvee built to specs and up-armoured, with the only difference being his engine under the hood. It didn't get quite as much power as the standard diesel engine but the difference was negligible. He had built the Humvee as a show piece to the Canadian and American governments. Neither had been willing to purchase it for his asking price so he had been doing up plans to show it to the UK and then the private sector before the evacuation happened.

Now they might serve a very different purpose. He would use these vehicles for what they were designed for. Or at least what the Warthog was written to be designed for. They both had weapon mounts. He could put a fifty on top of the Humvee, he had one laying around the armoury somewhere he was sure of it. The warthog had something special. Sitting in a crate inside the cage was the GAU-19b, a triple barrel fifty caliber Gatling gun that he had purchased off of another company. It was completely overkill, unless you wanted to reduce a small building into nothing but fist sized rocks, but it fit with the vehicle. He had had to custom design the mount and swivel for the vehicle as, in the game the entire platform rotated when you turned the gun allowing you 360-degree coverage.

"Jesus fuck, Jack! Is that a fucking Warthog?" this eloquent exclamation came from Drew behind him.

"Yes it is, Drew but that's not what I brought you here for. Would you and Craig come over here, please? Every one else, gather around." He led them over to the cage and scanned them in. Gesturing to a stack of large long crates in the back corner, he said "Bring one of those out here. Careful, they're very heavy"

He knew how heavy they were. It had taken him half a day to stack them up there.

As they carried the large crate over to the middle of the floor, bitching the whole way, Jack started to speak.

"What I am going to show you next, is something that no one outside my company has ever seen. I haven't even shown the prototypes to anyone. This right here, is what is going to keep us alive if- _when_ we eventually go back out there. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the TITAN II Powered Exo Suit"

With his grand speech over, he reached down and flipped open the catches on the storage crate. Inside was the next generation of combat armour.

It was sleek, it was black, and it cost more than a Bugatti. It was a full suit of head to toe body armour, made out of the same material as the plates on his vest. Each plate overlapped each other to make it look like the torso was made out of a snake's underbelly. It came apart into sections, to make it easy to put on and store. Head, torso and neck, groin, thighs, shins and boots were all separate, as well as the upper and lower arms. The lower arms and hands were connected, to create a large gauntlet. When fully assembled and worn it was a complete unit with the only vulnerabilities being under the arms and behind the knees. The helmet looked like a cross between a drastically slimmed down motorcycle helmet and a paintball mask that had clips along the cheek area to loosen it off, and allow it to be put on and removed. Internally however, was where all the magic happened. The whole suit was powered with actuators that took away its weight. It felt like you were wearing normal clothing. It also drastically increased the wearer's strength. You wouldn't be tossing cars around, but you could pick the end of one up… briefly. It was however, super fun to punch concrete walls and leave impact craters. It was temperature controlled, and had a full heads up display that could be connected to a central network like the one in Wonderland. Built in radios took away the need for bulky equipment and a fun little wrist blade about a foot long popped out if you flexed your right fist the right way.

Looking down at the armour as he explained all these thing to the group gathered around him it occurred to him just how much the HALO games had influenced some of his work. Artificial Intelligence, Warthogs, Power armour minus the shields (Unfortunately), All pulled almost directly from Halo. He certainly hoped no one sued him for it.

Laughing to himself at the absurd idea of being worried about a lawsuit at a time like this, he went back to the people around him.

"Listen, the things in this house…. They present an opportunity. They can keep us safe, it's true but more than that, they can keep everyone else safe. You've all seen what's out there. You've seen what people are doing to each other. Many of them seem happy with the new situation, but many others are not. People are fighting and dying just trying to stay alive. We have the ability to help those people. Now if you want, I can arrange to have you quietly extracted back to the mainland, to anywhere you want to go, really. My planes have authorization to enter the no-fly zone in order to drop supplies. I'd be doing it for anyone we pulled out, so I can do it for you too. But I hope you won't. I know it's not fair of me to ask you to stay in all of this but I want to save as many people as I can from this hell hole. And if I'm being honest… I want to kill as many of those monsters out there as I can. We have the ability to help these people. To me, that means we have a responsibility, as well. Now, I'll do it alone if I have to, but I'd really rather not." He paused after making his big speech trying to gauge the reactions of the people around him.

After what felt like a lifetime, Jess was the first to speak up "I've been by your side since the beginning of this. You're one of the best friends I have here. You've kept me safe the entire time, whether I asked for it, or not. Whether I needed it or not you've kept me safe, you've kept all of us safe. Now I can't speak for everyone else, but I'm not going anywhere. Besides" She added almost as an afterthought "Chris is still out there somewhere. I can't leave yet." Jess' speech was like a catalyst. One by one each of them made their intentions to stay clear. He had never been more proud to call a group of people his friends.

"Alright, let's show you degenerates how to put this on."

The days flew by and before anyone knew it three months had passed. After showing them how to wear the armour, he gave them all their own set with the moisture wicking under suit that came with it. Even the Doctor and Krista got one though theirs was more worst case scenario, than it was likely they'd ever actually need to wear it. The first order of business after seeing to the immediate necessities was taking care of Joe's body. It had spent the last three days on an examination table in the clinic. They held a proper funeral for him underneath one of the towering pines on the property in a spot that overlooked the harbour. It was hard to say goodbye to a friend.

Jack healed fairly quickly given that anytime Tricia so much as looked at him he found himself saying the Bene Gesserit Litany of fear in his head "_I must not fear. Fear is the Mind Killer…" _He had started helping bring in the supply drops after about a month. His hip still ached from time to time but for the most part he was back to 100%. Mark had taken to the job of Armourer like a fish to water. Nobody removed anything from that armoury unless he knew about it.

They had all watched from Wonderland when the first wave of American prisoners were dropped off right there in Nanaimo. It hadn't taken long before they had organized into several distinct gangs and started carving out territory. After the first week, the fighting had died down. There were still skirmishes along territory borders, but nothing like the chaos of the first week. The remaining population of Nanaimo had been separated into two categories: non- combatants, and fighters. The fighters had all either joined one of the gangs, or were killed whenever they were caught in gang territory without displaying their colours. The Non-coms had all disappeared. Either dead or gone underground, hiding wherever they could, and making runs out, scavenging after nightfall. Jack watched them sometimes on the satellites. Little blips on the thermal camera, running from building to building, trying to find food. There were regular supply drops but they were always seized immediately by one gang or another. A supply drop always meant inter gang fighting.

Jack wanted to help the Non-combatants so badly it hurt. He knew that they weren't ready. They had all the gear they needed, but his people had been on the breaking point when they arrived. They were slowly getting their stride back, and he could see some of them getting restless. The gym in one of the back rooms on the lower floor saw regular use. Within the first two weeks, he had installed the turret on the back of the warthog and mounted the swivel mount and fifty cal on the Humvee. They had all drilled on quickly donning their armour to the point were they could have it on and powered up in under three minutes. Everyone had customized it to their liking with holsters and mag pouches all suiting each individual's style. They settled into a routine. They were comfortable, if a little restless.

Then came the day they finally got to leave the compound.

Jack woke early as the sun was shining in through his window. The days had started to get longer, and while it still rained more days than not, every once in a while like today they got a day of clear skies.

He dressed in simple sweat pants and a t-shirt, and walked down the hallway to start breakfast for everybody. He didn't mind doing the cooking most mornings. Jess had turned out to be an abysmal cook and Mark couldn't do much beyond the outdoor barbeque. Tricia was a decent cook but her food tended towards the too spicy to consume. Craig had been the biggest surprise by being a phenomenal baker. They had fresh bread most days more often than not. After starting the coffee, he knew from experience he had about ten minutes before people started wandering in from around the house. Krista stayed in the bedroom adjacent to Wonderland. It was a room almost as good as Jack's with massive windows capable of auto tinting for privacy on a command. With an attached bathroom and soaker tub it was a wonder she ever left. Jess had commandeered one of the suite bedrooms as soon as she laid eyes on it and Tricia stayed with her in the other one. Craig, Mark, and Drew had all chosen rooms on the ground floor. They said they preferred it down there. Jack didn't blame them. The downstairs had what was closer to a cross between a family living room and a man cave. Huge TV with hundreds of channels plus Netflix, four different gaming consoles, a full wet bar, pool table, and a gym, it was the perfect guy's haven.

Jack continued getting the ingredients he needed for the breakfast wraps he was making. Eggs, green and red peppers, onion, flour tortillas, milk, marble cheese, chorizo sausage, mayonnaise, and certain hot sauce with a rooster on the bottle. The peppers, onions, and chorizo, all got chopped into small pieces and dropped on the grill before he squirted some hot sauce into a small bowl of mayo whipping it together until it was a uniform pale red. Once that was done he stopped for a minute and poured himself a cup of coffee. The smell of the brown life giving liquid had by now permeated the upper floor of the house and as such people were beginning to stir. First came Krista, stumbling out of wonderland with a look on her face of someone who had spent way too long pouring over a monitor the night before. She collapsed into a stool against the island and poured herself a cup of coffee as Jack started laying out the flour tortilla wraps. He spread a liberal amount of the spicy mayo sauce onto each of the wraps and sprinkled cheese along after. Once all the prep was done he whisked the eggs and milk together and poured them over the peppers and sausage. He mixed it all together as it cooked and watched as everybody else started to file in and take a seat along the Island. He filled each of the wraps and put them back on the grill to melt the cheese.

It was when everyone was halfway through their meals when Anni's voice came through a speaker on the wall.

"Jack, you'd better come and see this." Her accented voice was lifelike enough that Jack could detect the trace of alarm in her tone. This in itself had him on high alert, as he tossed down his food and raced to the consoles in Wonderland. Krista wasn't far behind him. As he entered Anni simply pointed at the centre screen.

There, displayed on the massive monitors was a satellite feed of a five-man section getting their ass kicked by one of the larger prisoner gangs downtown. It was obvious to Jack that they were military trained, if not currently serving. Subtle things like how they covered each other while reloading, and the way they moved when running from building to building. Currently they had taken cover inside an empty fountain in the middle of a traffic circle, and were clearly trying to make a stand. These men were not going to last much longer without some help. Jack had spent the last three months watching people die, often in horrible ways, while he sat safe and comfortable inside this air conditioned room, protected by his personal fortress on top of a heavily defended mountain. He was done with it. He was going to help these men, or be killed in the attempt.

Keying the house intercom, he announced loudly "All combat personnel gear up, and meet by the vehicles. Briefing in five" With that said, he ran back the ten paces back to his room and stripped off all of his clothing and pulled on the skin tight under suit for the armour. Once that was done he sprinted for the stairs leading down to the garage. The rubberized soles on the moisture wicking suit meant he was able to keep his grip on the slick hardwood floors. He almost collided with Jess as she came out of the hallway in her own suit.

"Tricia is heading to the clinic to get it ready and Krista will be joining Anni in Wonderland to act as control." She said as they sprinted down the stairs together. Jack was glad to hear it. They had drilled relentlessly for this moment for the past three months and finally they were coming together as a well oiled machine. They arrived at the door behind the other three men. Without a word to each other they each went to their own gear lockers and began donning the armour. The TITAN II was designed to be put on and taken off easily and almost without any help. It could be done alone but it was a pain in the ass. First to be pulled on was the codpiece covering the groin and pelvis. This was followed by the torso and both upper thighs. Once those pieces were on and hooked in together the codpiece was cinched down using clips similar to the type used on roller skates. It locked into place fitting like a second skin, having been formed to Jacks body. Next came the lower leg and boot combos The next step usually required a partner to assist because of where Jack had needed to put the hookups for the arm actuators. After sliding the upper arms into place he turned around to allow Jess to secure it into place at the back of his shoulders. Once the latches and actuators were connected he tightened down the torso. The gauntlets up to the elbow finished it off and once everything was latched down, he initiated the start up sequence. The low high pitched whine of the armour powering up was answered by whines from around the room as everyone completed their own start ups. The armour didn't actually need to be complete for the actuators to take effect. It would be severely weakened true, but as long as someone was wearing the torso, any of the limbs would be powered. The torso it's self had been designed so that it could be worn alone as a frag vest, albeit a heavy one. Jack grabbed his helmet and made his way over to the weapons rack.

He had upgraded from the C8 he had been using to his own personal favourite, the SCAR-H. Technically speaking it wasn't actually an assault rifle. With a medium length barrel and a capacity of twenty rounds of 7.62x51mm it fell squarely into the battle rifle category. While it was true that he wouldn't have as much ammo as before, the massive amount of power behind the round meant that he didn't need to double tap to drop someone. Fitting the large mags into the pouches he grabbed the Glock 22 he had taken from the car when they picked up Krista and slid it into the SERPA holster attached to his hip plates. He like the 1911 he really did but it only held 7 rounds with another in the chamber while the Glock held 15 rounds of .40 S&amp;W and he needed the extra capacity.

Once he was geared up he turned to the other people doing final checks on their gear. "Ok here's the deal. There's a five-man section pinned down in the downtown core. They wandered into gang territory and are holed up in an empty fountain in the middle of a traffic circle. We're going to get them out of there. These guys are military people. Infantry unless I miss my guess. I don't need to say how useful that can be. Let's go save some soldiers."

With that said, they put on their helmets and all moved towards their vehicles. Craig jumped up into the turret on the Warthog giggling like a little girl as he did. Jack climbed behind the wheel of the hog as Mark, Drew, and Jess got into the Humvee with Mark driving and Drew on the fifty. Without another word the garage door opened courtesy of Anni, and they peeled out towards the city.

It was creepy. That was the best description for the city at present. Creepy. All around them were signs of destruction. There were crashed vehicles they had to navigate through, small bits of rubble from explosives and grenades people had found, and bodies everywhere. Everywhere they looked amid dirt and rubble and small fires still burning were bodies in various states of decay. Some had been piled and burned, but most just lay where they had died. What was creepy about it however, was the silence. Based on the carnage around them, and from what Jack had seen on the satellite feeds, they should be waist deep in contacts right now. He knew it wasn't because they were all dead, he had watched as every month like clockwork another few thousand inmates were dropped off, yet as they drove through the city, they didn't see a single living soul. The throaty roar of the Warthog's engine increased in pitch as Jack accelerated through the city.

Five minutes later they were finally able to hear the sound of gunfire filtered in through their helmets microphones. The helmets audio system combined a radio, audio voice output, and ear defenders with microphones that would cut off any sound above 85 decibels. It let Jack hear in surround sound as they drew closer to the battle. At that moment his radio sparked to life.

"Uh Jack we've got a problem." Krista was in Wonderland, keeping an eye on both the battle ahead of them and their progress through the city using both the satellite images and Jacks helmet cam. "One of the men is down. Looks like he's dead, but the real problem is that all access to the square by vehicle is cut off. They've set up roadblocks. Tires, cars, furniture, that sort of thing."

"Well is there a route in, or not?" That had Jack concerned. They were a rolling arsenal but if they couldn't get in to help then it was all useless.

"Not that I can see. Looks like you're going to have to go in on foot." Bless Krista for having their backs, but that was _not _happening. Those men wouldn't survive extraction unless it was done very fast, and preferably behind a comfortable amount of armour.

Just as Jack was about to lose hope of saving these men he saw an opportunity. Up ahead, directly between them and the square was a parking garage. He accelerated into the garage as he keyed his helmet comms and said

"Craig, make us a door."

Sgt Chris Dunley knew they were fucked. They had taken cover inside this empty fountain when they walked into the ambush and had been slowly burning through ammo, trying to stay alive. It seemed like they had been holding them off, but whoever was shooting at them was content to keep picking away at them until they ran out of ammo. Then Travis caught a round in the neck. He had bled out before they could even get to him. The LT had simply taken over on the C6 and they had continued fighting.

He had known they were fucked from the day that Zero stopped responding on the radio. They had been part of the crews helping to keep order during the evacuation and had been out in Nanoose Bay when it became clear to them that they had been abandoned. Originally there had been a full Company of them. Now after three months, countless firefights and at least one successful hijacking that left them on foot, the five of them were all that were left. Four, actually now that Travis was down. Chris, 2nd Lieutenant John Shepard, Warrant Officer Sean Flaherty, and Corporal Benjamin Chang were all that was left of B Company, Canadian Scottish Regiment, Princess Mary's. Chris knew his wife Jessica had been with 32 Service Battalion on the island helping with the evacuation. All he could hope for was that she had gotten off safely before shit really hit the fan. It had become obvious fairly quickly as they pressed on that the line about smallpox had been a load of bullshit to cover up something else. What that was however he had no idea, and frankly right now he didn't give a shit.

"Reinforcements coming in from the east side!" This came from Chang to his left.

"Copy East Side!" came the answer from 2LT Shepard. "Dunley shift fire left!"

Chris adjusted his aim to account for the hostiles pouring out of the building. Yep, definitely fucked. They weren't even bothering to hide behind cover anymore as they advanced on their position. This was it, he was going to die here.

He closed his eyes and said "Jess baby, I'm so sorry. I love you"

Then, a pure fucking miracle happened. Three of the enemies advancing on them disappeared in a fountain of blood, as the wall of the parking garage to their left disintegrated into a large opening, blown apart by thousands of rounds hitting it almost at once. What came out of that opening told Chris that he had gone insane. It was a Warthog, straight out of Halo, blowing through what little wall was left in a shower of concrete and dust, flying through the air as it left the elevated garage with two heavily armoured figures on board. The Warthog touched down and bounced on its heavy suspension as the massive gun on the back roared at the enemies all around them. Chris could swear he heard maniacal laughter from the gunner as he kept up a steady stream of fire, shifting from target to target cutting people and buildings in half as the turret traversed. It did a full circuit around them as the C Scott's stopped and stared. Three seconds after the avenging angel from a video game made its abrupt entrance, a US Army Humvee came through the same hole the Warthog had. As soon as it was clear the gunner opened up with his fifty and added to what the Warthog was doing. As the Warthog kept circling around them, convincing their attackers to keep their heads down, the Humvee pulled to a stop in front of them and the passenger door flew open.

"Get in!" Came the filtered voice through the full head helmet. The voice was female and Chris could swear it sounded familiar.

Either way nobody needed to be told twice. Chang and the LT each grabbed one of Travis' arms and began dragging his corpse over to the Humvee while Chris and the Warrant covered them. Once they were in the vehicle with Chang riding with the body in the back, the Warthog pulled up next to them. At the drivers signal, Chris ran and hopped into the passenger seat. Initially he sat just like they do in the game, ass planted on the headrest with his foot braced against the dash, so he could fire over the windshield, but an armoured gauntlet reached up and yanked him down hard by the vest until he landed in the seat with a thump.

"You're not wearing armour and Jess would murder me if you got hit doing something stupid."

Wait did he say Jess? Any further thought was cut off by the sound of a loud click as the Hog's gun ran out of ammo.

"FUCK! RELOADING!" yelled the gunner above them, as he kicked the massive ammo can next to him off the back of the vehicle. It sailed through the air to strike someone in the chest. He pulled another one off of a rack behind Chris' head but the gangs had taken advantage of the lull in fire and started shooting back.

"Time to go! Mark stay close behind me and cover us until Craig's reloaded." The Hog's driver suited action to words as he spun the recce vehicle around and ripped out towards the hole in the wall. They sailed back out of the square, just the way they had come in and like that, they were safe.

Nobody really said anything as the driver wound them through the city. The gangs had taken a blow today, and it would be a while before they were willing to take them on. As the buildings grew less and less dense and the trees were becoming thicker he wondered about their mysterious benefactors. Whoever they were clearly had access to some serious tech. Not only was he sitting in a fucking Warthog with a working chain gun, but the armour they were wearing was unlike anything he had ever seen. They were shrugging off bullets like they weren't even there. Nothing that Chris knew of was capable of that. He would have to see about getting a set.

The vehicles rolled through a heavy iron gate that swung open for them as they approached and continued up a long narrow driveway for about three minutes before stopping in front of a large glass fronted A frame house. A woman in doctor's scrubs ran out and began checking on the wounded as Chris climbed down from the purring war cat. He was just about to thank the mysterious driver when he was interrupted by a shrieked "Chris!" and the sound of someone running towards him.

When he turned around he couldn't believe what he saw. It was Jess, in full armour minus the helmet running towards him as fast as she could. It was actually pretty fucking fast; the armour must be some kind of awesome powered exoskeleton. Before she could reach him the driver stepped around and intercepted her with a hand on her chest. The impact was like the sound of a forklift dropping a heavy load. Chris was pretty sure it echoed faintly. The driver leaned in and said something quietly to her and she blushed and came forward much more slowly. He could tell it was almost painful for her to take that long and Chris imagined that the driver had probably told her to slow down or she might accidentally kill him. When he finally had her in his arms it was a weird feeling. The armour added considerably to her diminutive height until she could actually look him in the eyes and the bulk of the plates kept him from being able to feel her. Her hair however, in its pony tail still smelled like her and that was enough for him. She was safe, and she was home.

Behind her he saw the driver undo the clips on either side of his helmet and pull it off. The face underneath made him take a step back.

"Jack? What the fuck are you doing here?" Jack smiled as he looked over at the two of them and said simply.

"I live here"

"Huh… well fuck me."

**A/N well there it is, Chapter 4. Like I said it's going to be a while before I start on chapter 5 because I want to fix the first one. Thanks to my wonderful sister for doing all the editing check out her tumblr account at ****thescottishmcrdragon**** it's not horrible! **


	5. Getting Started

**A/N Hey everybody I'm back. Sorry about the delay but I was away on course. But I'm back now and here is Chapter 5 Lovingly Edited by ****thescottishmcrdragon**** She doesn't have a Fanfic account but she does have a Tumblr so look her up.**

**Chapter 5: Getting to Work**

WHAM!

Jack let out a groan at the sudden impact of the mat beneath him. This was the fourth time in as many matches that he had been tossed by Lt. John Shepard. The man was annoyingly skilled in Judo. Jack could hold his own with striking, and he was fast too, but as soon as the wiry infantry officer got his hands on him, it was game over. Picking himself up off the mat,Jack said with a touch of annoyance,

"Do you know anything besides that move?"

Shepard paused long enough to wipe sweat off of his forehead before replying,

"Why? Tired of getting your ass kicked in the same way over and over again? I mean, if you're looking for variety I guess I could try something different."

"Asshole." Jack muttered under his breath. It had been a month since they had pulled their asses out of that city square, and already they had meshed seamlessly with the group. Chris had moved in to the in-law suite with his wife, everybody had suddenly found something intensely interesting and _loud_ to occupy themselves with _that_ night. The other three had moved into the rooms in the basement grumbling about having to move into the "barracks". It was true that while still nice, the basement bedrooms were more utilitarian that those on the upper floors. None of them however compared to the rooms that Jack and Krista occupied. Krista's room was like a hidden oasis. It was meant to be for the Wonderland operator and had audible alerts that would sound within the room signaling that their attention was required at the consoles. It had a massive California king bed that overlooked the forest through the floor-to-ceiling windows that wrapped around the outer two walls. To the right of that door was another door that led to an attached bathroom. A large tiled shower dominated one wall, toilet, bidet, and sink dominated another. In the center of the room was Krista's favourite feature. Set into a step-up platform was a gigantic overflow bathtub that you could comfortably relax in with water up to your shoulders.

Jack's bedroom was much the same as he walked through it and into the bathroom. Shedding his sweaty workout gear and tossing it into the laundry hamper, he stepped into the massive tiled shower and let the heat from the multiple shower heads work the soreness from his abused body. Jack knew he had a problem that needed to be worked out. There were too many people here for the number of vehicles that they had. The Humvee could seat four while the warthog could seat three. Jack had divided everyone into three separate combat teams leaving Krista and the Doctor to stay here.

Team 1 consisted of Jack, Chris, and Craig in the Warthog. He had had to include Craig in the Warthog team. The big man had looked like he was about to cry, when Jack suggested taking him away from the chain gun on the back of the Hog.

Drew lead Team 2 with Mark and Jess in the Humvee which left Shepard, Chang, and Flaherty as Team 3 without a vehicle.

Armour wouldn't be a concern for choosing the vehicle as each new arrival had been issued a set of TITAN II almost immediately. The area in the garage where Jack kept the gear lockers was starting to get crowded. He knew what he wanted from the vehicle. It had to be light and fast. Passenger space was a plus but it wasn't necessary as they had the Humvee for that. It had to be able to perform in the near off road conditions that the city had become without losing any of its speed. He also wanted it to be heavily armed. Ideally, he'd take another Warthog, but since the one being worked on in the garage by Mark was the only one in existence, he wasn't holding his breath.

Stepping out of the shower, Jack wrapped a towel around his waist and went to wake up his personal workstation. An hour, two cups of coffee, and a change of clothing later and he found the vehicle he wanted. The Chenowth Advanced Light Strike Vehicle, despite what anyone said, was a dune buggy built for the US Navy Seals operating in the Middle East. It was an advanced version of its predecessor that allowed for a crew of three to move and engage at high speed with maximum firepower. After a small amount of reading, Jack knew that he wanted one. It was designed to drive through both open desert and exactly the kind of blown out, rubble filled environment that the Island had become.

With his mind made up, Jack lept to his feet and strode into Wonderland, scanning his card as he did so. Krista was nowhere to be seen, but Anni's hologram sprang into being as he walked in. Today's outfit was a Slayer t-shirt with long sleeves underneath, a short denim skirt with calf length leggings on underneath, and a pair of ladybug flats. Her hair was a bright red and went down to her shoulder blades in waves.

"Hey boss. Krista's taking a shower if you're looking for her."

Checking the digital readouts on the mainframe Jack detailed why he was there.

"The ALSV? Yeah it's a good choice. I'm sure the guys will love driving it if nothing else. You want another fifty for it?" She was referring to the M2 Browning that could be mounted on the vehicle. The same kind of weapon that had almost turned them to red jelly on the way here and the same one that was currently mounted on the Humvee

"Nah I want big booms for this one."

"Mark 19 then?"

"Mark 19" Jack concurred. That should give the gangs something to think about.

"Who's out right now?" Jack asked as he got comfortable in one of the swiveling chairs.

"Team 2 is just finishing up their patrol in the Humvee. They should actually be rolling up to the gate any minute now."

One of the first things that they had decided upon the arrival of the C Scotts was to begin constant daily patrols of the city. The teams would rotate through where one team would go out for a three or four hour patrol and then when they came back there would be about a two hour wait and then the next team would go out. These would keep rotating until sunset when all the teams would come back and they would start again the next morning. They kept out of the heavy gang territory for the most part but it had been effective in keeping those territories from expanding. It wasn't enough Jack knew but with the low amount of man power they had it was all they had to work with.

He puttered around for another five minutes, watching the satellite feeds and chatting with Anni. She was a mystery even to him. From the second she had come online she had become a singularity. She was writing code for herself faster than Jack could keep track of. She may not have a body but she was a fully sentient person in her own right. The truth was that even though he'd never tell her, he didn't even need Krista in here. She was an extra set of eyes for the most part. It was Anni who really ran things. The only program that he had written and installed in the large mainframes behind him was Anni. Everything else, from the Satellite uplink, to the secure Internet connection, she had created herself and was running through her servers. She truly was a miracle. If he had let the Government get their hands on her they would have stripped her code down to its base level in an attempt to recreate it. They would have essentially killed her in an attempt to make more of her. They might have even succeeded but that was not something Jack was willing to allow. He saw her as a sort of daughter. He felt a need to take care of her. He remembered once that someone had attempted to hack into her servers while he was away. He had come back to the house to discover that not only had that person been unsuccessful, but she had flooded his hard drive with over a petabyte of bestiality porn. While extremely humorous, it had worried him that someone with access to over a petabyte of storage had not only noticed him but had attempted to break in. She had assured him that she had fixed the point from where he got in but it still worried him.

Jack was broken out of his thoughts by the sound of Krista's door opening. He looked up to see her walking out of her room in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt toweling off the end of her long blonde hair.

"Oh hey Jack, you seen Craig anywhere?" Her question forced Jack to have to suppress a chuckle. Craig still hadn't noticed her fascination with him. She wasn't exactly being subtle either. Whenever they were in a room together her face would light up like a Christmas tree and she usually just seemed to end up standing right next to him. The big man truly could be clueless sometimes.

"I think he's in the shop working on the Hog's gun. At least he was last time I saw him, though that was about an hour ago." Her shoulders set with a determined look on her face. As she turned to the door. She paused though as if something had just occurred to her.

"Actually I found something that I think you might want to see. Anni could you cue up that bookmarked satellite footage from last night?"

The virtual woman nodded her assent as a video file popped up on the center screen.

"I noticed something that seemed a bit odd when I was watching the cameras last night. Watch this."

On the screen Jack saw something he had seen hundreds of times already. One of the prison gangs was holding a family at gunpoint. From the grainy image he could see that their clothing was ragged and their skin was dirty. They were caught in a warzone and it showed in their appearance. He watched as a gang member hit the adult male in the stomach with the butt of his shotgun as another began dragging off the female away from the two children whom they left under guard. They were tying her hands and pulling a bag over her head. He didn't know for sure what they had planned for her but he could guess. He didn't want to have to see this again. Not when there wasn't anything that he could do. As he began to turn away Krista urgently directed his attention back to the screen.

"Look! Look! Right….Now!" Just as she said now, one of the men's heads exploded in a spray of gore. All of a sudden the gang was under attack seemingly from all sides. Who ever was shooting at them clearly had training. They were using single carefully aimed shots to drop each fighter. The gangs all tended to blast away on full automatic without aiming too carefully. Once they were all dead Jack expected to see the armoured figures of Team 2 come out of the shadows and bring up the Humvee. What he saw instead was a group of six step out of the surrounding buildings all wearing an assortment of tactical gear including several CF issued helmets and frag vests. That they were military was not in doubt. What Jack wanted to know was where they came from, and how had they not noticed them before.

"After that they take them around the corner and everyone gets into a Brinks truck. I lost them after they went into a tunnel." Both Jack and Krista were staring at the frozen image on the screen of the only obviously female member. All they could see was a black ponytail and a C7 rifle. There were new players in the game and unless Jack was mistaken, they were here to help.

An hour later found Jack underneath the Warthog up to his elbows in grease and hydraulic fluid. He was reconnecting the main Hydraulic line that allowed the turret to traverse when he felt a tap on the sole of his foot. Rolling out from beneath the hog he looked up from the shop creeper he was laying on to see Jess looking down at him. She was wearing the lower half of her armour having just come back from a patrol. The top half of her bodysuit was tied around her waist and her upper body was covered only by a plain black sports bra. Sometimes, he really hated Chris, lucky bastard. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and she held a sandwich on a plate out to Jack.

Wiping his hands on a rag, he sat up and gratefully accepted the offered food. He realized he was hungry and with his patrol coming up it was going to be a while before he got another chance to eat. Team 3 was chomping at the bit to get out but their vehicle wasn't set to arrive for another two or three days.

As he munched on his sandwich, turkey and swiss on rye, he pondered on the people he had seen in the satellite footage. Who were they? Who was that woman? How could he get in contact with them? His thoughts were interrupted by Jess plopping herself down on the floor next to him with a loud metallic thud.

"Sorry, forget sometimes how heavy this stuff is. Anyway, what's on your mind?" Jack contemplated his response as he polished off the last of the sandwich.

"Krista showed me a satellite feed of military trained personnel rescuing civilians from gang members. I'm just thinking how we've been here for three months now, with all our gear, and what have we accomplished? We shot up a downtown square and pulled a couple of guys out of the fire. Here these people are, with gear that they scrounged together making an actual difference in the lives of people trapped here. What's the fucking point of having all of this if we can't actually help anybody?" Jack realized that he was yelling by the end of his rant but it was too late to take it back.

Jess sat for a long moment taking in everything he said. When she responded she was very calm

"Ok first off, one of those 'guys' as you put it happens to be my husband. Bringing him back to me safe made more of a difference in my life than you realize. We're here too you know. Second we managed to set up a perimeter around the city. It gets smaller every day because of our efforts so don't take that lightly. Soon enough there won't be any safe havens left in this city. After that we can expand to the rest of the island. This is directly because of the patrols _we_ started. So stop with the fucking pity party and let's get back to work, yeah?"

Jack had to sit there for a minute after she left to go shower just digesting what she said. Unexpectedly Chris rolled out next to him from under the engine where he had been changing the oil.

"Dude… you just got your ass handed to you by a chick that could be one of Santa's elves"

"Well what's that say about you? You married her!" Jack found his smug smile strangely infuriating.

"Yeah which is why I know not to pity myself where she can hear me. Besides, did you see what she looked like just now? Can you blame me for never wanting to let that go?" With another smug grin, he rolled back beneath the vehicle before Jack decided to throw a wrench at him. Looking down at the wrench in his hand he figured he had taken long enough of a break and rolled back beneath the truck. Goddamn hydraulics…

Another hour later and Jack was securing the catches on his helmet and running the power-up sequence on his armour. He wanted to try something different than just driving through an area even though they tried to randomize the routes they took. So instead of grabbing his SCAR-H off of the weapon rack he moved down through the assortment of weapons until he reached the SR-25.

The SR-25 was a sniper rifle designed by the same man who originally designed the AR-15, the weapon that the C7 and M16 assault rifles are based off of. As such it looked incredibly similar to them except for the fact that it had a longer barrel with a suppressor, a solid stock like the C7 A1, a bipod, and a Leupold M3A Scope mounted. It was 7.62 and semi automatic which was perfect for what he wanted to do with it. Grabbing it off the rack he slung it over his shoulder as he hadn't had time to modify it to lock to his armour like the SCAR-H. He slid his 1911 into his holster and climbed into the passenger seat of the Warthog. Chris was driving today as Craig got ready to climb up behind the gun. He was picking up his helmet from the table when out of nowhere Krista pushed through the other people, marched right up to the big man and damn near kissed him out of his armour. It went on long enough after Craig wrapped his arms around her that a few people began clearing their throats uncomfortably. Finally she released him with a whispered "Come back safe," and quickly retreated back to Wonderland, her red face lighting the way.

"Well as long as all the surprises are out of the way, does anybody mind if we head out now?" Jack couldn't help the dry tone that entered his voice. He was happy for them, he really was, honestly.

The big war cat's engine roared as they accelerated out of the garage and down the long driveway to hell. Jack checked his ammo one last time and knew that he had enough to last barring the entire city coming down on them black hawk down style.

"So why is called a warthog anyway?" This was from Chris as he smoothly turned to avoid the shot out carcass off the MilCOT at the end of the driveway.

"I think it's a combination of the ram bars in the front that look like tusks and the sound of the engine." Craig was scanning their surroundings for threats as they entered a more built up area. Snipers were a very real risk, with all of the tall buildings around them.

"I don't know, man. I think it looks more like a puma." Jack could almost hear the grin in the man's voice as he made the groan worthy reference to red vs blue.

"Warthog, Puma, Chupathingy, it really doesn't matter as long as you don't crash my baby." There was no denying the dry tone that entered Jack's voice now it was absolutely dripping with sarcasm.

"So… does that mean the name _does_ matter if I crash it?" You could almost hear Chris' grin in his voice.

"Chris?"

"Yeah boss?"

"Shut the fuck up."

"Sure thing, boss."

They continued to drive deeper into the city, heading closer and closer to gang territory. Finally, as they began to reach rows of apartment complexes, Jack had Chris stop the vehicle. He wanted to test a theory he had, concerning the effectiveness of the patrols. He knew that the gang leaders weren't stupid. Through necessity they had followed a fairly regular patrol schedule which meant that they were able to time almost to the minute when the next patrol would come through. It had taken them a little while to realize this. At first resistance was heavy. They would have to make repairs to the vehicles every time they came back in. Then it started to lessen to the point where you could go an entire patrol without seeing anything. Everyone else thought that it meant they were pushing them back and slowly retaking the city. Jack had a different theory. He believed that they had realized that with their armour and heavy weapons, Jack and the teams couldn't be beaten by the odd small arms they had managed to scrounge. So they hid and waited for the vehicles to go past. All the evidence they needed was in the satellite feeds. So today Jack was going to see if he couldn't take out a few more.

After a brief search he located a building with an excellent view down one of the main shopping streets. It looked like it used to be a condo with all the security it had at the entrance. There was an old adage that said "Locks are only there to keep honest people out." Apparently that also held true with the non-desperate because where the safety glass wasn't destroyed it was wrenched out of the way to allow access into the building. Jack had to step over a long dead body as he entered the building, marksman rifle leveled. From the state of the desiccated body, it had been there since the purge began. A lot of people had died during the panic of that evacuation. Jack supposed that was part of the plan all along though. Less of a load on the government, if half of the evacuees killed each other in their panic.

As he made his way through the building a story began to unfold just from what he saw in the hallways. Dried smears of blood on the floor and stacks of bodies in carefully selected rooms said that someone had tried to live in the building after the purge. Unstacked bodies in other rooms told of how successful they had been. At one point he had to pause as he reached a stairwell that had been barricaded by furniture. His first reaction was to try and find another way up. None of the elevators worked as the Island had lost power within the first week, but then he realized that was ridiculous and began tossing the relatively light objects out of his way. He did his best to remain quiet but one of the couches broke as his powered gauntlets lifted it up out of the way. It hit the stairs and bounded down with a resounding crash. He froze, listening and hoping. A light thud from up above him told him what he feared. He wasn't alone in the building. Checking to make sure the safety was off on his rifle he stepped over the last of the makeshift barricade and silently made his way up the stairs. When he reached the top he was confronted by an empty hallway. It was startlingly clean compared to what he had come through before. There was evidence of a struggle but one that had been cleaned up and made livable again. As he stepped off the stairs and into the hallway he was rushed by a skinny man with a kitchen knife. With just a glance Jack could tell that this man was not a fighter. Instead of shooting him, Jack swung the rifle around on its sling and grabbed him by the knife wrist with one hand. With his other he backhanded the man to stun him and slammed him up against the wall. By flexing his free hand in just the right way he extended the six-inch blade from its recess in the armours forearm and held it up to the mans throat. Not enough to break the skin but he definitely felt it when he swallowed convulsively. Keying his helmets external coms, he spoke in a deep low voice.

"I'm not interested in hurting you. I'm just on my way to the roof. Drop the knife before you hurt yourself and I'll forget I ever saw you."

Jack waited until he felt the muscles relax in the skinny man's forearm and heard the clatter of the eight-inch chef's knife hit the ground. It wouldn't have come even close to penetrating the armour but Jack was serious when he said he wasn't interested in hurting the man and there was a very real chance that the blade would have caught in a groove in his armour and broken off. Relaxing his blade arm, he let the stiletto re-sheathe itself with a quiet _snick _and let the man go. Stepping back Jack swung his rifle back around and was about to continue on to the roof when he looked into the room his assailant had run out of. Standing inside was an equally skinny woman holding a baby protectively against her chest. Both the man and the woman now that he got a look at them, looked like they hadn't eaten in days and even then nothing that could be construed as a proper meal. Sighing to himself he opened one of the storage containers on the front of his torso armour and pulled out two of the meal replacement bars he always carried with him. Taking his helmet off he stepped into the room and silently handed them to the starving mother. She accepted them without saying a word but she smiled at him and nodded, her eyes tearing up. Replacing and locking his helmet Jack stepped back into the hallway and addressed the two of them.

"Pack whatever you need that can be carried on your back. I'm going to have a vehicle come by in a few hours, and pick you up. They'll take you somewhere safe and get some food into you. We'll also have our doctor take a look at your daughter."

With these last words, Jack turned and continued on up to the roof after contacting Anni and telling her to get Team 2 to stop here and pick them up when they came through.

Jack reached the roof without any further incidents and set up a good firing position that overlooked the once busy street filled with its local boutiques. Now it was covered in garbage, broken glass, and bloody bodies. He set up the bipod and ensured a round was chambered before removing his helmet and pulling out an earpiece for coms. As much as he wished he could, it just wasn't possible to look through a scope for long periods of time with the helmet on. He settled in to wait.

It wasn't long before his theory was proven correct. Five armed hostiles stepped out of one of the shops wearing red shirts or strips of cloth half an hour after the warthog came through. The red signified them as one of the larger gangs to take over this particular city. It didn't particularly matter to him if they were Americans or Canadians however. They were killing innocent people and had to be put down. He lined up his first shot. At this distance, windage wasn't going to have much of an affect but he accounted for it anyway. After making all the necessary adjustments he lined up on the easiest shot, a large man standing slightly off from the group lighting a cigarette and prepared to fire. He closed his eyes and took two slow deep breaths in. On the second breath he stopped halfway through the exhale and opened both eyes. The split view was a little disorienting but by focusing on what he could see through the scope he could see the crosshairs centered on the mans chest right over his heart while still being aware of the other four targets with his other eye. He flicked the safety off with his thumb and squeezed his whole hand slowly into a fist causing him to smoothly squeeze the trigger. The recoil actually surprised him for a split second as the rifle barked out the shot with a _thwak CRACK _sound.

The thing with firing a supressed rifle, the thing Hollywood always gets wrong, is that a suppressed weapon isn't truly silent. All a suppressor does is quiet the initial bang. The initial sound of the round being fired. What it doesn't and can't control is the sound the bullet makes as it breaks the sound barrier. You would need to be using subsonic ammunition, that is bullets that travel slower than approximately 343 meters per second, to get that Hollywood _pfft _sound. In actuality all a suppressor does on a high powered rifle is make it extremely difficult to tell exactly where the shot came from.

That is exactly what happened here. To his friends on the ground, one second he was standing there calmly lighting a cigarette, the next he was falling back with a spray of blood coming out of his back followed immediately by the crack of a rifle.

Jack watched with his off eye as the other four scrambled for cover. He tracked over to the next target, a skinny Hispanic man that kept poking his head up to try and figure out where the shots were coming from. Too late.

_Thwak CRACK! _This time the shot caught him in the temple and he simply disappeared above the shoulders. They were in a panic now and still no closer to figuring out where the shots were coming from. A few of them were blindly firing their weapons over the cover they had crawled behind but none were even close to hitting him. He caught movement up the street from his open eye and adjusted to hit the new target. He was an extra 50 meters away, but Jack didn't have time to correct for the distance, he simply aimed higher and fired. The round missed, instead hitting a covered object that was sticking up over his shoulder. The man exploded, literally exploded with a large fireball. He must have had an RPG though Jack couldn't figure out where the hell he had gotten it. They were definitely 100% illegal in Canada. Purge or not there was no way he should have been able to get it in here. Unless… unless they were being supplied by an outside party. This would bear investigation when he got home. For now the explosion had distracted his original targets enough that they had poked their heads out of cover to see what the noise was.

_Thwak CRACK! _This round caught the man in the middle of the spine and he fell to the ground screaming and twitching. If he didn't bleed out he would certainly never walk again, either option suited him just fine as he sighted in on the man running toward his injured comrade. He almost, ALMOST chuckled when he realized that he was using the very tactics that the CF was taught to fight against. Injure one so that the sounds of his screams drew in more to help him and then kill them too. He didn't like fighting like that but damn if it wasn't effective.

_Thwak CRACK! _ The last one went down when he too tried to sprint to the dying mans aid. As effective as it was to leave him there, Jack knew he couldn't do it to the man any longer. Out of something close to compassion he sighted in again.

_Thwak CRACK! _With the crack of the round, the injured gang member fell silent.

Jack decided that he had drawn enough attention to himself and that it was time to at least move to another building. As he was getting up from his prone position he heard a scuff behind him. He whipped around just in time to be hit in the face with the butt of a rifle. After that all he saw was black.

On the other side of the country in the CNN offices in Toronto, Jade Saira was pissed to put it lightly. She had just been told by her producer that under no circumstances was she to continue badgering the Canadian government for information on what's happening on Vancouver Island. She had been an investigative journalist since she was 23, and at 35 she had enough experience to know when something wasn't right. For the first month after the outbreak all anyone had heard when they turned on the news was about the massive smallpox outbreak in BC. Now, it was like the place didn't even exist. She wasn't an idiot. She knew it was the nature of the press to move on to the next big thing as soon as it came up but it was different when you were on the other side of the camera. They would often receive updates up to a year after a major event. It was just usually filtered out by the producers. But now it was a complete blackout. She knew when she was being lied to and it pissed her off.

She walked into the employee breakroom and poured herself a cup of coffee. It was her… hell she didn't even know how many she had had. She knew she should cut back but she had added it to the very long list of things that she would get to eventually. Like quit smoking, or go to the gym, or ask out the cute girl across the hall. None of it was as important as the next story.

On the way back to her desk she followed her normal route. A quick glance in the mirror to check her make up and hair. She was graced with a high metabolism due to her Persian heritage so she remained slim despite her mainly take out and fast food diet. When she was positive there was nothing unprofessional about her appearance she stepped out of the breakroom and wound her way to her desk, sidestepping Norm the Perv's workstation as she did so. When she got there she cleared away the numerous empty coffee cups and takeout boxes so she could get to her laptop and was surprised to find she had an email from a blocked sender. It read;

"Dear Ms. Saira,

In times like this it's good to remember what Oscar Wilde said about what the world calls a romance.

Keep trying.

K. "

Jade was intrigued to say the least. She had no idea who K was or what Oscar Wilde had written. However, she could answer at least one of those questions presently. Pulling up Google she typed: Oscar Wilde; World calls a Romance, and hit enter.

What she read next caused a Cheshire cat grin to spread across her face.

"Deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance."

Someone was telling her that she was being lied to and she'd be damned if she was going to let them.

Jack was starting to get incredibly sick of waking up with a splitting headache. He tried to move and shock surprise, once again his arms were tied behind his back. What really concerned him was the fact that he could feel the duct tape digging into his wrists. He could feel the seat of the metal folding chair he had been placed on. They had stripped him of his armour. Now to find out who they were. He opened his mouth and began to demand answers

"huuurrrrruuuoogh…"

Well that wasn't exactly graceful but at least it was a start. Next up was to open his eyes. Unfortunately, that didn't go quite as planned because apparently his left eye was swollen shut. Luckily he was right eye dominant so he shouldn't have a problem shooting but it was still a pain in the ass. What he saw around him however was not promising. He appeared to be inside an industrial kitchen complete with bandsaw and meat grinder. And blood. Lots and lots of blood.

"Hey boss, looks like secret agent man is waking up." This came from a gruff voice just out of his field of view that spoke with a distinct Jersey accent.

"Yeah? No shit. He's still fuckin alive after all." Brooklyn this time. When he looked to the left he saw a man get up from where he was sitting on a stainless steel prep table.

"Wakey wakey, asswipe. You and your people have taken out a lot of our guys. I'm gonna kill ya fo' that. But first I think im gonna let Tony here kick the shit out of you. You killed his brotha see so I figure he owes you that much."

The punch completely blindsided him. He literally did not see it coming. Jack knew he was going to die and that it was probably going to be painful but he would be damned if he showed these shitstains any weakness. Spitting the blood out of his mouth, he looked up at Tony and said,

"Careful son that's a great way to break your wrist. Straighten it out more for the next one."

It was satisfying to see the man flushed with rage as he swung again.

"That one wasn't bad, but you're not using all the power you could be. Plant your feet, pivot from your foot up through your hip, and put your shoulder behind it."

WHAM! Oh that one hurt. That fucking hurt.

"Much better! But you're still punching from the arm. Here, let me show you."

WHAM! He was officially seeing stars now. Despite the "advice" Jack was giving him Tony had a cannon for an arm. He knew he'd be unconscious any second now and welcomed it. It was an escape from the pain.

Tony meanwhile was furious.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you, mother fucker!"

WHAM! Jack had to spit out more blood this time before he could speak.

"How very eloquent, my simple minded friend."

The beating continued, and Jack was unfortunately conscious for it all. It was surprising therefore that no one noticed the sound of a gunfight happening in the other room.

Suddenly the door to the kitchen burst open, and three figures rushed in C7's leveled. The unnamed boss went down first, followed quickly by Tony.

"Clear!" yelled one of the voices from another room as they all lowered their weapons. One of the figures in front of him, it was hard to tell as his vision was rather blurry at the moment lifted something to their face and said in a clear feminine voice

"All clear, let's pack up the hostages and move out."

Suddenly Jack's vision was filled with the face of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen as the mysterious leader leaned in to cut the duct tape behind him. He knew she was speaking to him but he just didn't care right now. All he wanted was to sleep.

So that's exactly what he did.

**A/N Jesus Jack just can't catch a fucking break can he? Any way I'll start working on chapter 6 six soon. Leave a review. Reviews and messages make me write faster. Oh and check out my tumblr as well ****fremen1992**** for story updates.**


	6. Escape From Nanaimo

**A/N Whelp, here we are with another chapter. We're starting to move in on the end of the story. Probably another four or five chapters left. I wanted to make up for the filler chapter I wrote before so I made sure that this one was chocked full of action and shit. Please tell me that someone gets the reference in the Chapter title. I was trying to be clever…**

**Chapter 6: Escape from Nanaimo…**

Krista was in a panic. Jack had disappeared right out from under their noses. By the time they realized that they had lost comms with him she had had the satellite pointed at a different area of the city. In the time it took for the command to realign to reach the orbiting satellite and for it to fire its maneuvering thrusters to point at his last known location with sufficient detail, he was already long gone. His armour lacked any kind of transponder so there was no way to track him and Anni reported that she had lost the feed from his helmet cam when he took it off. In short, they had lost him and Krista had no idea how they were going to find him again.

She had finally had to call Team 2 back in. They had spent another two hours searching for him but with the sun going down it was simply too dangerous even for them. The satellites she had hacked into and taken over weren't military and therefore weren't capable of nighttime surveillance. If they stayed out there they would be completely blind.

All they could do now was wait till morning, and hope.

It didn't take long for Natasha to realize she was pretty much up shit creek. She wasn't entirely certain what just happened but she knew it couldn't be good. Reaching up to her face she felt wetness and stinging pain. Other than that she didn't really know much.

Looking down at the fingers that had probed her face she found them covered in blood. She looked around her at the inside of the blown out truck and suddenly everything came rushing back. She had taken a five-man team into a known Riker stronghold to rescue a bunch of girls they had taken as sex slaves. The girls had been fine, as fine as they could be in their situation. It was when they were clearing the last of the rooms of the blown out senior's hospital that they found _him_ tied up and being beaten to death by the local boss and a random flunkie. She hadn't been that surprised that they hadn't been heard coming considering the age of the building. Thick walls tended to keep sound from penetrating. The two hostiles had gone down almost immediately before she entered the room behind her men and found him.

He was one of those "Division" Agents, she was sure of it. It was a nickname that had just kind of sprung up for the shadowy group of people. The running theory was that they were government agents sent in to attempt to keep some semblance of order. No one knew who they really were. In the interest of the safety of her people she had ordered that no contact was to be made.

That didn't really help her right now as she took stock of where she was and what had happened. Her truck was fucked, that much she knew, which was a pity really because it was a nice truck. 2016 Ford F150, the damn thing was comfortable. It really was too bad that the whole front end was a mass of twisted metal. Looking to her right she saw that her co-driver was dead. Shrapnel caught her under the chin.

The Rikers had a tendency to set up IEDs in the hopes of… honestly she had no idea why they set them up. There was never a rhyme or reason to them. She guessed one of them just liked blowing things up. One thing about them was fairly consistent however. If there was a bomb set up, then sooner rather than later Rikers would show up.

Her thoughts were proven prophetic not thirty seconds later when she saw two masked faces pop out from behind a building and start walking toward her destroyed vehicle. She didn't quite trust her legs yet and drew her sidearm while still sitting in the driver's seat. She usually got teased for the big hand-cannon she pulled out of her thigh holster but right now she didn't care. She lined up the sights on the Colt King Kobra .357 and fired. The first magnum round hit the Riker in the middle of the chest. It was like seeing it in a movie. His torso flew back and his arms and legs followed as he fell to the ground. The second round missed when she aimed at his partner which ended up costing her a bullet in the arm. _Mother FUCKERS! _She fired again and this time hit him in the stomach. _Good enough_ she thought as she hauled herself out of the ruined driver's seat and limped over to the two prone figures. As she approached she saw that neither of them were actually dead. The first one was unconscious but breathing. Either way he'd be dead soon. The second one however was very much alive and screaming. Begging actually.

"No! No! PLEASE! –" **BANG**!

_Bitch._

The second one was much quieter as she finished him off with an identical bullet in the eye. She felt absolutely no sympathy for the gang bangers as she limped back over to the truck and nursed the bullet in her arm. She flipped the chamber open on the heavy revolver and dumped out the empty casings. She actually kind of enjoyed the sound the shells made when they hit her boot. Pulling a speed loader from her sweater pocket she reloaded the gun, spun the chamber and with a flick of her wrist, returned it back into place. Sliding the gun back into the holster along her right thigh, she walked around to the bed of the truck to see if her passenger was even still alive.

He was still there. Still alive, shivering, and… actually…. kind of cute, if she was being honest. But she needed him awake. They had a long way to go and every likely hood that they would be dead by morning. It was time to conduct a medical experiment. You know, for science. Dropping the tailgate, she full armed slapped him across the face. She never was one for subtlety.

"Ow what the fuck!"

It would appear that he was conscious. Hooray for the future of combat medicine. Soldier is unconscious? No problem! Bitch slap them awake! _I'm going into shock _she thought as she giggled to herself quietly as the man sat upright. Generally, her thoughts weren't all over the place like this. His face wasn't as swollen as it was before. He was still shirtless though. She leaned in closer to get a good look at him and see if he was capable of keeping up.

Jack hurt. Pure and simple. He had the mother of all headaches, his eye was throbbing, and he was damn cold. Looking down he realized he was now sitting in the bed of a truck wearing nothing more than the bottom half of his bodysuit. _Shit somewhere out there one of those gang members has a set of TITAN 2 _THAT was going to be a bitch to deal with. He was pretty sure the only thing they had that would penetrate it was a fifty.

Suddenly a face filling his vision brought him back to the present. And what a face it was. Tanned skin with a slight olive complexion, brown eyes that could just suck you in, defined eyebrows and full lips. She had long dark curly hair that was pulled back into a pony tail and was wearing a dark blue hoodie underneath a plate carrier. Knees pads over pale blue slim fit jeans, thigh holster holding a 357 magnum, and hiking boots completed her ensemble. She was gorgeous and unless he was mistaken she was the woman he had seen through the satellite feeds earlier that morning.

He was suddenly aware that she was scowling at him and speaking.

"Hey! Dumbass! You alright?" yep definitely scowling. He had to clear his throat before he was able to reply.

"Yeah, yeah I'm good to go. Feel like death but I can walk, even run if I absolutely have to." The scowl only lessened slightly when he spoke.

"Well good cause we're gonna have to. It's almost dark and I'm willing to bet that you Division agents have no idea how bad it gets here at night. There's a store nearby where you can get clothes and gear. Strip the weapons and plates off the body in the passenger seat. She won't be needing them anymore."

Jack had to take a moment to absorb this strange woman. After four months of being in charge, he wasn't used to taking orders anymore. And what the hell was a Division Agent? But regardless she had saved him so he was willing to follow her lead for now. He was distinctly aware of every bruise and broken rib as he climbed out of the truck. Walking around to the cab he was sad to see the woman sitting there. Her helmet had fallen low over her eyes obscuring her face but there was nothing obscuring the six inches of steel sticking out of her throat or blood covering the entire front of her body.

As bad as Jack felt for doing this he had no choice as he opened up her vest and pulled out the ceramic plates she was wearing. The vest itself was ruined, shrapnel had torn it apart but the plates were still good and extremely hard to find if you didn't have his resources. Which at that particular moment, he did not. Her weapons were another surprise. While his mysterious savior was pulling a C7 out of the driver's side of the truck and inspecting it for damage, the other woman had an M1A rifle. It was semiautomatic and the civilian model of the M14 Battle rifle. Identical to it in every way with the exception of the fire selector that would allow the rifle to be fired on full automatic, it essentially _was _the M14 which was the standard issue rifle to the USMC from 1965 to 1970 before being replaced by the M16. Put simply, it was heavy as hell, but it was a damn good rifle.

Racking back the action he chambered a round and then checked her vest for spare mags. He pulled five mags off of her only to discover that only three of them were still full. He also found a large pouch full of shotgun shells which inspired him to look around the truck. Underneath the body's feet he found a short barrel Remington 870 Tactical shotgun with a pistol grip and no stock. It was held in what appeared to be a specially made holster that was meant to attach to the MOLLE on a plate carrier. It was clearly designed with one purpose in mind. This was a breaching gun pure and simple.

A further inspection revealed a Glock 22 with five full mags in a vest holster which completed his new load out.

So rifle in hand, and all the extra ammo, sidearm, shotgun, and plates placed in a messenger bag he found in the backseat of the truck he walked around still shirtless and freezing cold to his new companion. The top half of his body suit had been cut off by his kidnappers so all he was wearing was essentially a pair of under armour pants that didn't want to stay up. It may have been mid-May but it still got cold at night on the island especially if it had been raining all day and still was.

"Got everything?" were the only words she spoke when he walked up next to the woman who had saved him. At his nod she said

"Good like I said there's a store around the corner that will have gear and clothing. I don't think it's been raided yet surprisingly. Somehow I get the feeling you don't particularly want to be flashing your dick to half the Rikers in Nanaimo."

There it was again. Yet another name he had never heard before. He decided to break his silence in order to attain some answers.

"What are Rikers? And you mentioned a Division earlier? What's that?"

"I'll explain once were off the street." That made sense enough to Jack so he followed along in silence with his weapon raised. They continued along the street with Jack being extremely careful where he stepped. His body suit had rubber soles true but that was only meant to provide traction on slick floors. It was never designed for outdoor use. His feet were numb from the cold and pain and he was practically holding his rifle up with one arm while the other was used to keep his "pants" from falling down around his ankles and tripping him up. He wasn't entirely certain what he thought about this new woman. She was beautiful obviously and abrasive, which he kind of liked about her but it was too early to tell if she was actually skilled at what she did or if she was about to get the both of them killed around the next corner.

The next corner did not end up bringing their deaths. What it did end up bringing however, was what appeared to be some kind of army surplus/ airsoft store. The sign had been blown off so he couldn't tell what it was called but after stepping in he had to blink to be able to make sense of everything he was seeing.

Calling the store an eclectic mix would be an understatement. Jack will say one thing for it, everything in the store was related to either military gear or outdoor survival. One rack would have surplus uniforms from various countries, another would be novelty patches, next to a rack of high quality out-door clothing.

Near the back was where he found the things he was looking for. Mixed in with all the knock off airsoft gear was the odd legitimate plate carrier or real Kevlar helmet. Where the store had gotten them he had no idea as Kevlar helmets were highly restricted in Canada. The first thing he grabbed were a pair of boxers on a nearby shelf. They were supposed to be some kind of moisture wicking material but he really didn't care as long as he had something to cover his junk. Next were a pair of wool socks and acid washed jeans that were in his size. As he walked toward the change room he also grabbed a tan t-shirt and a plain leather belt. Stepping into the nearby change room he stripped off the last remnants of his bodysuit and started dressing in his liberated clothing.

"So my name is Jack, Jack Hawkins what's your name?" For some reason he wasn't expecting her to actually answer him so he was rather surprised when she did.

"Natasha Blake. Nice to meet you Jack."

"So you mentioned something called Rikers? And the Division? What are those?"

She was quick to answer as he pulled the jeans up and buckled his belt.

"The first wave of American prisoners to be dropped off was primarily from Rikers Island in New York City. So the nickname kind of stuck."

Jack nodded and then realized she couldn't see him and said

"That makes sense I suppose. So what about the division?"

By now he had pulled the t-shirt over his head and stepped out of the change room. He had to suppress a grin as he watched her obviously giving him a once over and trying not be caught doing so.

"The uh… the Division is you guys I suppose. You guys in the armour. We were aware of you of course but we had no idea who you were. I think last I heard the pool was up to $700. The front running theory is that you're a secret government division sent in to establish order. So I suppose you can understand my curiosity when I ask you who you are?"

That set Jack back. He thought about it as he browsed the shelves for a decent pair of boots. Who were they? Saying that they were Canadian forces wasn't exactly the most accurate answer anymore. Sure all the combat teams were military. But if anything, they had gone rogue. He pulled a pair of desert tan Oakley boots off the shelf as he formulated his answer.

"The truth is I'm not even sure anymore. We started off as a group of people just trying to stay alive. We were all military to start with. All Canadian Forces. We picked up a couple of others on the way. My full name is Jonathan Hawkings. I'm the CEO and founder of TAC-6 Industries."

THAT got her attention.

"TAC-6? I read a report on you a year or two ago it sat on my desk for a couple of weeks before I picked it up. They say your some kind of genius. You started your company when you were just a kid."

Getting the boots tied up and the jeans tucked back over top of them Jack stood up to try them out. Damn they were comfy. Moving on he grabbed a pair of knee pads off of a wall.

"Yeah well because of all that I had a house just outside of the city, including a bunch of TITAN II prototypes, that's the armour by the way, that would be more than enough to ensure our safety. But then we got there and I got a look at everything that was happening and at all the resources inside my house and I just knew that I couldn't sit back and do nothing." As he was walking towards where the more authentic tactical gear was stored something caught his eye. It was a small spinner rack filled with Velcro patches. The kind that airsoft players would use for a team emblem.

The one in particular that caught his eye was larger and meant to go on the shoulder. It was flat black with a stylized white eagle displayed superimposed over a hollow orange circle. Written above it were the letters SHD. He assumed it was from some videogame or novel. What he liked about it was the Latin motto written underneath "Extremis Malis Extrema Remedia" Translated literally it meant "Extreme Remedies for Extreme Evils" Jack had the feeling however that it was actually referring to the more situationally appropriate _Desperate times call for desperate measures. _

Chuckling to himself he grabbed it off the rack. _Hell even the SHD works. Strategic Homeland Division. It's as good a name as any I suppose_. Still chuckling he tossed the patch to Natasha.

"There you go we have a name. The Strategic Homeland Division." He left her there examining the patch as he walked up and smashed the glass display case holding the authentic items.

Reaching in he pulled out a desert tan Kevlar lined plate carrier. He was about to turn around when he spotted a dusty box tucked into the back corner. Pulling it out and opening it up he saw that it was a Leupold Close Quarter Battle Sniper Scope or CQBSS. While he could easily fire accurately without a sight on it, he would rather be able to shoot the M1A with a proper scope for accuracies sake. It would take a couple rounds to zero but he was fairly confident he could zero it quickly enough that it wouldn't give away their position. Walking back to where he had dropped the gear, he stopped at a rack of jackets. Looking through them he selected a black Condor Summit. It was slim, waterproof, and warm. And if he was being honest with himself it had Velcro patches on the shoulder that would allow him to wear his new patch. He reached the messenger bag and pulled out the ceramic ballistic plates and slid them into his new vest. He put the vest on over his t-shirt leaving the jacket to go on over top so he could take it off if it got warmer. He'd just leave it open. The mags for the Glock fit perfectly and there was enough MOLLE on the vest to comfortably hold a large amount of the shotgun shells. What surprised him the most however, was that the mags for the big 7.62 rounds fit almost perfectly. _Luck of the draw I guess_ he thought to himself as he slid the big rifle mags into the pouches. Seeing the Glock reminded him to head back over to the tactical gear. He found a good rigid duty belt and a tan SERPA thigh holster that would fit the pistol perfectly. Strapping on the holster and sliding the Glock into place along with two spare mags he grabbed a nearby pair of Blackhawk! hard-knuckle gloves in black and a comfortable looking Black wool toque. With his last additions he was ready to go.

He was about to pick up his weapons and head towards the door when he looked over at Natasha nursing her arm. He hadn't noticed before due to his own discomfort and the dark colour of her sweater but it was soaked in blood.

"Shit let me see your arm."

She pulled away when he took her arm in his hands and said

"Leave it I'm fine. There's more important things to worry about."

"Bullshit your fine you look like you've lost about a half liter of blood! Now sit down, shut up, and let me take a look at this."

She gave him her best glare but unlike Trish, she didn't have the mystical powers of the Bene Gesserit and could hold no sway over him. He sat her down on a nearby bench and had her remove her plate carrier and sweater. She was wearing a simple tank top underneath and he had to focus very hard on examining her injury. _Christ, she may not have the same glare, but this girl puts Trish to shame in other areas._

It didn't look bad, it was a through and through and missed the bone. She'd heal just fine. Right now the only concern was blood loss as the sweater had helped in clotting and it was now bleeding freely.

"There's a small med kit in the messenger bag." Jack looked up to see her pointing behind him towards the bag that he had carried with him from the truck. He jogged over to it and as he picked it up the weight of the extra ammo and whatever else had already been inside it caused it's already damaged straps to give way.

"Fuck" he exclaimed as it contents poured out over the floor. Something strange caught his eye as it bounced away among the ammo, food, and medical supplies. It was a small USB flash drive, rather conspicuous among the larger items. He ignored it for now and picked up the medical gauze along with a water bottle. Looking around he realized there was nothing to cut the gauze with. Sighing he walked over to another display case and smashed the glass pulling out a large combat knife. It was a Gerber LMF II Infantry Fighting knife. Rather overkill for cutting gauze but fuck it, it was the first one he grabbed and it was a nice knife. Attaching the knife sheathe to the front of his vest upside down, he walked back over to his bleeding patient and used the bottled water to rinse off the area around the wound. Putting pressure on it, he ignored he sharp intake of breath as he applied a gauze pad to both sides. With the large gauze bandage he began wrapping her arm firmly. A thought crossed his mind and he chuckled.

"What's so funny?" He looked at her and was surprised not to hear the tone of scorn and contempt he had grown used to hearing from her. Her voice sounded… softer if anything as she looked looked up at him. He finished wrapping her arm and tied it off, using his new knife to slice off the excess and rewrapping it.

"Nothing really I was just laughing at the role reversal. In most action movies you see it's the female love interest bandaging up the wounded hero before he goes to fight in the movies big finish. I just thought the reversal was kind of funny."

She fidgeting for a moment and cocked her head to the side.

"Isn't that usually followed by a dramatic love scene?"

"Usually I suppose"

"Yeah well that aint happening this time so keep it in your pants buddy"

He knew he shouldn't say it, he knew it was a really bad idea but she practically served it up to him on a silver platter. Looking down at her unintentionally generous cleavage, he said

"Sure but that means you have to keep yours in your shirt too"

Three minutes later he had effectively come to the conclusion that saying that was indeed a horrible idea as he picked himself up off the floor. Who knew she was a master of the "nut tap". That fucking hurt. He never noticed he blush and grin as she pulled the neck of her shirt back up from the dangerously low angle the vest had pushed it to.

After they had cleaned up and Jack had found a replacement for the ruined messenger bag, a grey Propper sling bag that went diagonally over one shoulder, he attached the shotgun holster to the bag in way that he could switch between his two weapons relatively quickly. They were about to head out the door when Natasha stopped him with an arm on his shoulder.

"When you were moving all the stuff from the messenger back into that one, did you see a USB stick laying on the ground?"

Reaching into his pocket Jack pulled out the USB Stick in question and held it up. Her relief was palpable.

"What's on this thing anyway?"

"Evidence, videos and documents that will show the world how bad it is here" she said as she took the stick from him and slid it into her pocket.

With that said and all their gear together they stepped out into the quickly darkening night. It had stopped raining, thank God for small miracles, but it was still quite damp and cold out, especially so given the time of year. Natasha knew where they were going but she wasn't talking so Jack was content to follow her lead. He had a full mag and a freshly zeroed marksman rifle after taking a quick break to sight it in on a billboard 100 meters away. He was content.

Apparently that was his first mistake.

While everyone in the house was fitfully and unsuccessfully trying to sleep Anni was managing three separate subroutines all running different algorithms in an attempt to locate her creator. So far she had been able to track where he had been taken. It was an old condemned care home that had been set for demolition before The Purge and now served as a stronghold for one of the larger prison gangs in that district of the city. The problem was that when she directed the satellite view that way, the building was in ruins. There were bodies everywhere and no sign of life whatsoever. A few blocks away she found a freshly destroyed Pick-up truck and two figures moving away from it. It was difficult to see due to the cloud cover but she got lucky with a small patch of clear sky. Running a quick identification program, she determined that there was an 85.678% probability that was indeed Jack and an unknown woman moving further into the city. She knew that waking everybody up would be pointless. In an hour all she would see through the satellites were what the odd fire allowed her to see.

There was however something she could do. It would take an hour and a half for any of the teams to reach him in the morning. That being said, Jack's new vehicle was set to be airdropped in that morning. All she would have to do is send the pilot new drop coordinates and she would be able to send Jack some heavily armed support.

Looking through the city for a likely drop zone she factored in clearance, Jack's relative distance, and concentration of enemy forces in that area. She finally selected a public park 13km away from his current position and sent the new coordinates to the pilot who was already en-route from Edmonton.

Now all she had to do was get a message to him.

She found him in the failing light coming out of a building having resupplied and beginning to head north. Scanning ahead of him she saw a construction zone coming up. And where there were construction zones, there were often programmable signs. A quick scan of the electrical signals found that there were several in the area. She just had to reroute power to that particular area. Flicking a virtual lock of hair out of her face she set to work.

Jack and Tasha, as he had started calling her much to her dismay, had been walking for about twenty minutes without incident. He knew it was too much to hope that it would continue on that way for much longer. They were approaching a construction site when all of a sudden, every street lamp and traffic light in a four block radius came to life after being dormant for four months.

"That's not good." Tash mumbled under breath. She checked the chamber on her C7 and ensured that her mag was properly fitted as she scanned the area around her.

"I've got a pretty good idea of who's responsible for that." Jack declared. It was true. He recognized Anni's handiwork. He knew it had to be her too. Krista was good but this was a whole new level.

"Well whoever it is, is going to get us fucking killed." The vehemence in Natasha's voice surprised him. Sure they had lost the cover that the darkness provided them but so had the Rikers.

"I wouldn't say it's that bad. Besides it's kind of nice having it look like a real functioning city again. Look, this street barely has any bodies on it."

"Of course you wouldn't know, how the fuck could you know? You spend your nights locked up in whatever fortress you keep all your toys in. You've never had to survive out here. Our only advantage was that the route we were going to take was out of the way and unlikely to have anyone on it. Now with the whole area lit up like a fucked up Christmas tree, Rikers and who knows what are going to be flocking here."

Jack had nothing to say to her explanation. It was true that he didn't really know how bad it got out here. His people were only scratching the surface of what they could be doing. But now wasn't the time to be worrying about that. First they had to worry about getting out of there alive. As they pressed onwards, being much more careful now, Jack noticed up ahead that one of the traffic signs was flashing.

As they drew closer he realized what it was that he was seeing. It was an address, being scrolled endlessly across the screen. After a moment of watching the address the words "Fire Flare 06:30" replaced what was previously on the screen.

"What the hell is that all about?" Jack hadn't noticed that Natasha had moved up beside him.

"That's one of my tech people giving us the time and coordinates for our extraction." He waved his arms above his head so that the satellite could pick it up, and the message disappeared. It had to be Anni. Krista wasn't capable of this.

"How the hell could they possibly know where we are?" She had started to look more and more nervous the longer time went on and the longer they remained exposed.

"As best as I can tell they used satellite tracking and an estimation based on our direction."

"So they guessed?"

"They guessed."

"Lovely"

They continued on from there albeit with a slightly quicker pace than they had used before. Neither one of them was eager to get caught out in the open when people came to investigate the lights. Natasha had immediately deferred to Jack given that it was his people that were providing the extraction.

They had been walking for another five minutes and thought they were in the clear when they turned a corner and Jack felt like he had been punched in the gut.

Up ahead was a squad of eight to ten soldiers. Soldier was the best description for them but they were definitely not Canadian or even American forces. With the exception of their pants which were an urban A-TACS pattern they were dressed in unrelieved black. Tactical jackets, plate carriers, Ops Core FAST helmets and ski masks were all black. Even their gloves which were a hard knuckle style similar to Jack's were black. They carried AR-15's with the American ACOG scope attached and each seemed to be carrying a combat load of ten mags low on their vests. Combined with the FNX-45 Pistols they all had strapped to their thighs they were heavily armed. Much too heavily for Jack to want to try engaging with. For now, they were all crowded around what appeared to be a fresh body on the ground and hadn't noticed them yet. Jack wanted to keep it that way and began backing around the corner they had just rounded very slowly. Unfortunately, his boot hit a beer bottle that had been laying nearby on the ground which bounced and rolled away with a loud _tink tink_.

As one all ten masked faces snapped up to where they were standing like deer in the headlights. The nearest commando snapped his weapon up as a voice shouted

"There's two more! Get those JTF Fuckers!"

Jack didn't stick around to find out who the hell the JTF was as he whipped around the corner just before two shots rang out. He flinched back as shards of brick blew off right where his head was. He flipped the safety off of his rifle and leaned out to pop off a shot at their attackers. Another explosion of brick dust convinced him that it was currently a bad idea to poke his head out.

"We need to fall back to a better position!" He had to yell over the sound of gunfire for Natasha to hear him even though she stood less than two feet away. Scanning down the street they had just come from she pointed to a blown out car thirty meters away.

"That ought to do it! Think we can make it?"

"Only one way to find out!" Jack yelled as he popped off two quick shots around the corner without looking and tore off for the car, Tash hot on his heels. They covered the thirty meters in roughly ten seconds and had slid over the hood and lined up their shots in another three seconds.

He was expecting them to come around the corner, or at least to take cover and sight down the street. What he was NOT expecting however was an arm to whip around and toss something that looked like an undersized dark coloured tennis ball into the middle of the road. It wasn't until he saw the spoon fly off while it was in the air that he realized what it was.

"GRENADE GET DOWN!" He suited action to words as he grabbed Tash by the back of the neck and pulled her down behind the car with him. The M67 grenade went off with a sound like a thunderclap, blowing out the windows of the car they were hiding behind and leaving both of their ears ringing. Luckily they were protected from any shrapnel due to the distance and the fact that they had taken cover in time. Jack popped up and sighted just in time to see one of the commandos in his crosshairs. He fired hitting the man center of mass. He dropped like a sack of shit and Jack waited patiently for another target. He received his third surprise in as many minutes as instead of being dead the commando on the ground aimed his rifle from his position flat on his back and began firing. Jack once again had to duck down as rounds started flying near his head.

Something that not a lot of people know about bullets is that there is nothing, absolutely nothing that sounds quite like a round passing near your head at close range. Once again Hollywood didn't seem to understand and therefore no one else did. Most bullets are supersonic, and just like everything else that has mass and breaks the sound barrier, it has its own sonic boom. However, since the round is so small, it's more like an extremely loud snapping noise. That's what Jack was hearing as he tried to understand why that particular commando wasn't dead.

_SNAP! SNAPSNAP! SNAP! SNAP!_

He couldn't understand it. _SNAP!_ A round of that size should have punched through any armour they were _SNAP!_ wearing.He leaned out during a lull in the fire to see the man getting to his feet and put one of the heavy rifle rounds through his left temple. _That _put him down.

_Unless…_

"Those **MOTHER FUCKERS** are wearing my armour!" That was the only explanation he could come up with as he fired at another of the commandos when they ran across the street to a nearby dumpster. They were starting to set up decent firing positions and that was starting to worry Jack. If these were Rikers they would already be dead. These men were highly trained and good at keeping Jack and Tasha's heads down as they maneuvered.

"What? No their not they're not! They're wearing plate carriers." This came from Tash as she was kneeling at the other end of the car returning fire.

"No not that armour!" Jack was glad of that. He knew they'd be fucked if these guys were wearing a set of TITAN II

"I'm talking about the SKORPIAN vest. Only thing I know of that will stop a rifle round in its tracks like that. Hit em in the head! Center of mass is just going to bounce off of these assholes!" Jack once again suited action words and put a round through one of the commando's right eye. The large spray of blood and brain matter against the wall behind the man told him that he had hit his target. After that few words were spoken between the two of them as they continued to trade fire with the new enemy. By his estimate between him and Tasha there were only four left. He dropped the now empty magazine out of the rifle, put it back in his vest, and replaced it with a fresh twenty round mag. Reaching over the top of the rifle with his left hand he pulled back on the cocking lever and released it, unlocking the bolt catch and allowing it to slam forward and chamber the next round.

"Looks like we might actually survive this one" he muttered to himself.

Just as he finished saying that, the sound of an engine made itself apparent just before a black suburban pulled up from around the corner in front of them. Its doors popped open and three more black masked commandos jumped out. That wasn't the worst part however as standing up through a hatch in the roof was another commando manning a weapon that Jack had not expected to see in this city.

It was a weapon that had been feared in it's various forms for over a century. Since it's birth in the American Civil War, through the Vietnam war and up to today. It had evolved and changed so many times over the years that it was nearly unrecognisable from it's hand-cranked ancestor that had defeated the South. From having its massive cousins mounted on planes, even having an entire plane designed around it, to it's smaller version used as helicopter door guns, it was a weapon that had turned the tide of battles since it's invention. There was even a version that was designed to be carried and operated by a single gunner. From movies to video games, It's six rotating barrels and iconic _brrrrrrrrrt _noise had cemented itself into the minds of soldiers and civilians alike.

Mounted on top of that truck was the US Army Designation M-134, more commonly known as the Dillion Minigun.

_Just once_ he thought to himself _Just fucking once I'd like to remember to keep my fucking mouth shut_.

The six barrels of the modern gatling gun were beginning to spool up as he grabbed Tash by the vest and they booked it for the doorway next to them. Jack didn't even slow down as they approached the front door of the condo. He raised his rifle and fired three shots into the glass while he ran. Lowering his shoulder, he ran right through the weakened plate glass door, slamming into the wall behind it in a shower of broken glass and dust. Behind them the wall exploded as thousands of 7.62 rounds tore through it. He only took a moment to shake off the impact however as they heard the sound of the engine revving and the big SUV moving into position behind them. Once again grabbing Natasha by the arm, he took off for the stairs off to their right. Just as the gunner opened up on where they had been. Jack could hear the blood pounding in his ears as they dashed up the stairs taking the steps two at a time. He had no idea where they were going to go, he just knew that staying on the street right then was suicide. The sound of boots pounding after them in pursuit drove them on even faster. Christ he wished he had a grenade. Just one frag grenade would be enough to slow down their pursuers enough to give them a firing position.

Eventually they emerged on the roof of the building. Their boots skidded on the gravel as Jack whipped around and slammed the heavy door shut behind them. Natasha quickly shoved a length of rebar up against it to wedge it shut and they stepped back as the sound of bodies impacted the door from the other side.

"That's not going to hold them forever" Tasha said as she looked around. There was absolutely no cover to be seen other than the odd vent or air conditioner.

"We need to get off this roof" Jack said as he too looked around. Already he could see the door starting to give way to the boots and bodies slamming against it.

Running up to the edge of the building, Jack looked over to see the street almost a hundred feet below them. The Suburban was still down there. Running over to the other side he saw something through the failing light that looked promising. Roughly thirty feet below them was a shopping mall under renovations. What caught his interest however, was the dumpster filled with what looked like discarded asbestos insulation.

"Tash come here!" The door was now open enough to allow a leg to fit through if they tried.

"What? – No, not a fucking chance, what are you crazy? There's no way that I'm jumping thirty feet down, across an alley, into a dumpster"

Behind them the door slammed open as the now bent rebar fell away with a clang. Jack leveled his rifle and put a round through the head of the first man out the door. He fell back into his comrades slowing them down a second.

"Too late! GO!" He grabbed Natasha by the hand and ran off the edge of the building.

"Wha-? OH SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!" was all he heard beyond the wind rushing past his head as he felt his stomach climb up into his chest and his legs and arms wind milled.

He closed his eyes right before impact only to feel his fall suddenly arrested by the Insulation in the dumpster. Half a second later Tash landed next to him. He had the wind knocked out of him by the impact, but he had survived. As he looked over to see if his companion was alright he was met by a fist straight to the jaw.

"You FUCKING ASSHOLE We could have been killed." She was fuming with a few stray strands of hair falling in front of her face.

"Could have. Key phrase there. We made it alright though didn't we?" She didn't respond as they began to climb out of the dumpster. Suddenly a shot rang out and impacted the wall of the dumpster right where his head had been a moment before. Looking up to the roof they had just jumped from he saw the commandos looking down at them.

"Do these shit stains ever take a day off?" Tash muttered as she raised her rifle and dropped one of them. They had managed to take cover on the far side of the dumpster as the commandos dropped to the prone along the roofs edge. This was bad. They had superior firepower, manpower, and a superior position. A sudden roar of rounds impacting the side of the heavy steel dumpster cut off Jack's train of thought as apparently, they also had a SAW. The M249 Squad Automatic Weapon was the American cousin of the C9 LMG. It was belt fed, air cooled, gas operated and really bad fucking news for Jack and Natasha.

The gun was screaming out it's battle cry in short bursts of _BRAAAAAAT BRAAAAAT BRAAAAAAT._ The short bursts and accurate fire confirmed in Jack's mind that these were men who knew what they were doing. They were pinned down, unable to even get a shot off without being filled with holes. He knew it was only a matter of time before the dumpster that had been their salvation up to this point gave way. The worst part was that only twenty or so meters away there was a door that led to a stairwell but with the amount of fire being poured in there was no way they would be able to reach it. He looked over at Natasha expecting to see the same defeat and resignation on her face but instead he saw her looking incredibly pissed off and pulling something from her vest.

It was, to Jack's surprise, a flashbang. The M84 Stun Grenade, generally used by police and military to disorient the occupants of a room before entering. It was considered less than lethal as it used a magnesium charge inside of an aluminum casing as opposed to the Comp B charge and steel casing of conventional fragmentation grenades. Jack had a foggy memory of hearing flashbangs when he was being rescued which explained where she had gotten it. At present Tasha was swearing under her breath as she pulled the pin. She released the spoon which triggered the fuse, held it for a second to "cook" the device and threw it over top of the dumpster. It exploded a moment later. Immediately after the explosion the incoming fire petered out to be replaced by yells and exclamations of pain. They took this as their opportunity to jump out from behind cover. Tash took a moment to turn around and put a bullet in the head of the SAW gunner before joining Jack in his mad dash to the stairwell. The stun grenade had been timed perfectly exploding right in the faces of their pursuers. It would be at least five seconds before any of them could see anything at all. Luckily for them, five seconds was all they needed.

They reached the door in four, only to find it locked. Quickly transitioning to the shotgun, Jack placed it where the deadbolt meets the door jam at a forty-five-degree angle and fired. He then turned around with his back to the door and kicked it in with the back of his right foot. Tash was through the door immediately after with Jack hot on her heels slamming it closed.

Two hours later saw them well away from the Commandos. They had decided to stay off the street, preferring to use alleys and building whenever they could. It was now fully dark and Jack was starting to understand what Tash had been saying about how dangerous the streets were at night. The chaos of the opening months hadn't really died out. It had just gone nocturnal. With the knowledge that Jack and his people only came out during the day had also come the wisdom to reserve all activities to the night.

Their walk through the night had been accompanied by the constant sound of weapons fire throughout the city. The next most common sound was screaming. Jack knew that some of the things he saw from alley ways and rooftops would haunt him for the rest of his life. At one point he saw three women standing around a man tied to a street lamp and stabbing him repeatedly. Another time he saw a bunch of nut jobs in firefighting gear with homemade flamethrowers torching an entire family. Mother, father, two kids, even a baby. They all burned as the men laughed through their masks. Jack put a round through one of their tanks causing it to explode and set fire to the "firemen". It didn't help that family but it made him feel better to watch the psychos burn. The streets were filled with horror scenes like this. They helped where they could but for the most part it was too late for anybody they came across. Throughout it all were the Rikers, gleefully shooting at anything that moved.

The one group that Jack was glad that they hadn't run into were the commandos from earlier. Natasha had explained that as best as her people could tell they were private military contractors from the Last Man Battalion. It was the same company that had been responsible for massacring an entire town in order to fake the outbreak. They were also the ones handling "Security" on the evac and viral screening ships. These assholes were sadistic. They had arrived a week earlier with enough vehicles and equipment to be set up for a long time. Jack was never more aware of how lacking their intelligence had been than at that exact moment. If they had missed not only a deployment of forces on that scale, but all the chaos that happened at night then God only knows what else had happened without them having any idea. She also explained what the comment about the "JTF assholes" had been about.

Natasha had been a Captain with Military Intelligence, before that she had been a combat engineer. She had served two tours in Afghanistan spending a considerable amount of time outside the wire running counter insurgency ops in Kandahar. During the evacuation she had, like him, been tasked with screening civilians for evacuation. The only difference was that where there had been him, Jess, and two others, She had had an entire companies worth of troops with her. She had screened everyone and was getting them ready to move when they were given the word that the trucks wouldn't be coming for them. They had been abandoned.

The next months were hectic as she lost more than half of her people and gained even more. There were soldiers, cops, nurses and doctors, they had merged to form what she had taken to calling the Joint Task Force. Apparently they were living and operating out of the city's waterworks. At least that was what Natasha called it. Better than saying that they lived in a sewer Jack supposed. The water treatment plant had been where she had been taking them so she said but Jack's evac site was much closer.

Eventually they ended up inside a half finished apartment building overlooking their evac site. They had scattered broken glass along both ends of the hallway in order to give them some early warning if they had unannounced visitors. It was still early being only three in the morning so Jack had proposed that they try and get some sleep.

Currently Jack had the first watch and was sitting up against a wall next to a large window looking down into the park. It was a bit further from the downtown core and therefore it was clear of the crazies. He looked down at the curly brown hair laying against his chest. Tash had fallen asleep sitting upright next to him but at some point had slumped over. He was about to push her back up when she nuzzled in closer and put her arms around him. She NUZZLED Natasha, badass dark haired Valkyrie, nuzzled. He tried not to laugh at the tendril of hair that had fallen in front of her mouth and would be sucked into her mouth as she inhaled only to be blown back out on the exhale. Looking down at her he was struck once again by how beautiful she was. Her usually hard features and constant scowl that was only broken up by the occasional sardonic smirk were absent in her sleep. She…softened, it was the only way that Jack could describe it. She gave off the impression of someone that needed to be defended, taken care of. He knew this wasn't true and that she'd probably hit him for suggesting it but right now, he allowed himself to live in the fantasy.

He stroked her hair as she slept until the beginnings of predawn light began to light up the horizon. Checking the glowing orange face of the watch that he had found, he saw that it was quarter to six. Time to get up.

The park was quiet when they went out. Which was almost enough to cause concern right then and there. If there was one thing that Jack had learned about this city was that it was never quiet. There was always gunfire somewhere. But right now as the predawn glow gave way to actual daylight, if not direct sunshine, the city was peaceful. You could almost forget that anything was wrong.

Jack stepped up into the centre of the clearing and pulling out the flare gun that they had removed from an outdoors supply store, and fired it into the air. They watched as the glowing red phosphorus flare shot high into the air and burned brightly falling slowly back to earth on it's parachute.

Watching the bright beacon, it occurred to Jack that not only had they signalled the plane that he could see coming in low on the cloudless horizon, but they had also just broadcasted their position to anyone who chose to look up. Chances were very good that they were about to have company. Lots of it.

Natasha seemed to be thinking along the same lines because just as he turned to suggest they find cover she was already readying her gear to move back to a more concealed position. They ended up picking a nearby stand of trees surrounded by heavy undergrowth. Once they got into position, Jack removed his pack and set it in front of him, using it as a support for his rifle. Once they were properly concealed they held absolutely still and waited for the airdrop.

They didn't have to wait long as almost five minutes later Jack was startled to see a large framed pallet land almost directly on top of where they had fired the flare from. He would have to make sure that the pilot and load master of that plane got a hefty bonus when they got out of here. Instead of getting up immediately they waited a moment as the three large parachutes settled around the vehicle.

Soon enough their waiting was rewarded as three Rikers came running around the corner. They were excited obviously having seen the vehicle dropped out of the plane and were enjoying the prospect of stealing it and riding around in the death machine.

Unfortunately for them one of Jack's 7.62x51mm NATO standard rifle rounds entering through the frontal lobe was enough to eliminate any plans the first ex con had for the vehicle permanently. The back of his head literally exploded from the shockwave of the round exiting his skull, spraying his companions with blood, bone, and brain matter. The second was dropped with a double tap from Natasha's C7. Jack took the last one out with a round placed centre of mass.

They didn't wait after that. As soon as the last target was dropped they lept to their feet. Jack grabbed his pack and swung the single strap over his head as they ran to their new vehicle.

The Chenowth Advanced Light Strike Vehicle was the successor to the old Scorpion Desert Patrol Vehicle. Essentially it was a Dune Buggy on steroids. Built for speed and maneuverability, It had a 160hp Porsche engine and could go from zero to fifty in four seconds. It's only main drawback was that it was literally just frame and chassis. It had no armour whatsoever except for a few plates Jack had asked to be installed around the engine. The version that Jack had ordered seated three though it was capable of also having a rear gunner. It was meant to have either a fifty caliber or a Mark 19 Grenade launcher in the main gunner position, located behind and above the driver and co driver, with a Light or general purpose machine gun in the passenger position. Jack however had asked for a specific layout that had a fifty in the gunners spot with a Mark 19 in the passenger seat.

They wasted no time admiring the deadly war machine as they began offloading it from it's shipping palette. Luckily it didn't appear to have suffered any damage as a result of it's lofty departure so they rolled it off the platform and checked to make sure the weapons were ready.

"Can you operate the Mark 19?" Jack asked as he walked around to the driver seat.

"God no. This is the first time I've ever seen one of these up close." She said with a bemused look on her face.

"Fine, you're driving" Jack said as he walked back around to the passenger side.

"I was hoping you would say that" Natasha said as she climbed into the driver seat. Jack climbed into the passenger seat and began loading the Mk19 from the ammo box mounted next to it.

If the M2 Browning fifty caliber was like a badass grandpa that could run you into the ground before kicking your ass, then the Mark 19 belt fed grenade launcher was his short, fat grandson that hit like a truck. It was similar in design to the Ma Deuce in that it possessed a spade grip and "butterfly trigger" for two handed firing as well as large side mounted cocking handles. However, where the Browning was long and narrow the Mk19 Was short and wide.

Jack loaded the belt into the feed tray and slammed the feed tray cover closed. Grasping the cocking handles on each side of the gun he cocked the bolt back, pressed the trigger to delink the round and then cocked it again. He was looking forward to using this gun.

Two minutes later saw them barreling down the empty road towards his house, Natasha following his directions as they flew around corners. The vehicle was a true joy to drive in. Out of nowhere a song that he hadn't heard in years popped into his head and Jack just couldn't help singing it under his breath.

"_Well come on all of you big strong men, Uncle Sam needs your help again. He's got himself in a terrible jam, way down yonder in Vietnam. So put down your books and pick up a gun, we're gonna have a whole lot of fun." _

It was an old song written to protest the Vietnam war and wasn't as popular as some of the ones written by CCR or Jefferson Airplane. It was definitely before both his and Natasha's time so he was fairly surprised when she joined him with the chorus.

"_And it's one, two, three, what are we fighting for? Don't ask me I don't give a damn. Next stop is Vietnam. And it's five, six, seven, Open up the Pearly Gates. Well there aint not time to wonder why. Whoopee! We all gonna die!" _

They shared a grin after the chorus and Jack was about to ask her where she had heard the song when an explosion of gunfire hit the ground right in front of them. Coming out of a side street ahead of them was their old friend, the suburban with the Minigun on top. Tash slammed the brakes on the dune buggy and threw it into reverse squealing the tires as she did so. Jack aimed the Mk19 at the big SUV ahead of them and fired three rounds at it. The big gun bellowed out with a _WHOOMP WHOOMP WHOOMP _sound. The recoil was intense and the rounds missed by an easy five meters.

"What the fuck?!" Jack yelled out at the weapon. As Tash continued to reverse the vehicle weaving from side to side to avoid the gun of the approaching SUV as she did so, Jack corrected his point of aim accounting for how far off the sights were and fired again. _WHOOMP-CHUNK! _

"FUCK!" He yelled as he tried cocking it again. The cocking handle stuck hallway through his pull. Opening up the top of the feed tray cover he felt the mechanism and checked his hand. It was bone dry. There was no fucking oil in it. Apparently his version of "Ship ready to fire" and theirs was very different. It was useless until they could stop and open it up to inspect it.

"Turn us around and get us the fuck out of here! I'm gonna climb back to the fifty!" he yelled as he climbed up out of his seat.

Tash used an upcoming turn as an opportunity to send the car into a full drift around the corner swinging the front end around until it was facing forward in a truly masterful display of driving. While she did that, Jack swung around the roll cage, momentarily hanging outside the vehicle to climb in behind the heavy machine gun. It wasn't anymore oiled than the Mk19 but luckily it wasn't as temperamental. It would last long enough to get the job done. He spun the gun around to face their rear as he loaded a hundred round belt into it. He cocked it once, advancing the belt into the gun and cocked it again to chamber a round. He got this completed just in time as the Suburban whipped around the corner behind them, the barrels on it's Minigun already spinning. It fired a burst with it's characteristic _brrrrrrrrrt_ sound but because of the way Natasha was driving mixed with the rough condition of the road bouncing both vehicles, the rounds went wild. Jack fired as well hitting the hood and windshield but to his dismay the rounds bounced off the hood and merely cause a spider web of cracks to form in the armoured glass.

Jack continued to pour fire into the black suburban and a few rounds managed to penetrate the armour. Smoke was pouring out of the hood as it raced after them through the hair pin turns that Natasha was making. Jack knew that eventually he would be able to disable the up-armoured vehicle but it was far more likely that their luck would run out and both him and Natasha would wind up dead in a smoking heap of bullet riddled metal.

It looked like their time had run out when his gun ran out of ammo with a final sounding _CHUNK! _It almost seemed like Jack could see the other gunner grinning as he lined up a shot on the now defenseless vehicle.

Just at that particular moment the Minigun operator ceased to exist. That was the best description he had for watching the man _and _his gun disintegrate into a spray of blood and shattered metal. Immediately after the gunners magical disappearing act, the entire SUV was taken out as the heavenly sight of Jacks M12 Force Application Vehicle, coming out of a side street, slammed into it between the front and rear passenger doors. The force of the impact threw the entire vehicle onto it's side as it tossed the remainder of the gunner's body out of the top hatch. The Warthog however, was perfectly fine as were the two occupants who hopped out wearing full TITAN II armour. Tash had stopped the ALSV as soon as the Warthog crew gunned down the Suburban.

Climbing down from the gunner's position Jack walked over to the two figures who had removed their helmets to reveal Craig, grinning like a kid on Christmas, and Chris attempting to look stoic as the approached.

Grasping his hand Craig said "Damn it's good to see you man. Who's this?" he said indicating Natasha who had walked up next to Jack.

"Guys this is Natasha" Jack said as he gestured towards her "We should get back to the house. We have a lot to talk about"

**A/N So there it is Chapter 6 Leave a review guys. Seriously. Or I'll find you.**

**Just Kidding**

**Or am I? . . .**


	7. Chapter 7: New Friends

**A/N So here is Chapter Seven. We're Nearing the end people. Just a couple more to go. I've got a big move coming up so it might be a while before I update again. **

**Chapter 7: New Friends.**

It's funny you know? No matter who you are, no matter how much money you have, rifles still needed to be cleaned. Well at least they did if you deserved to own them. Sure, in the military higher officers would have someone else do it for them but even then, it was a rarity. They needed to be cleaned or else you were likely to get a stoppage at the worst possible time. So, that's where Jack found himself later that evening after their dramatic rescue from the Last Man Battalion.

He was straddling the end of an empty TITAN II crate in the weapons cage with his new M1A stripped on the shipping crate in front of him. He was mostly finished and was just using a bore snake to do a few pull throughs of the barrel.

Over in the Humvees vehicle bay, Team 3 was going over their new toy. The Chenowth Advanced Light Strike Vehicle had been everything that he had hoped it would be. It handled the rubble strewn terrain like it was born to it and the Mark19 had been an absolute joy to fire for the five seconds that it had functioned. It was currently sitting on the ground about five feet away from him with Mark swearing at it as he attempted to get the jam cleared. The live round had been removed from the breach but apparently, there was still a casing and even a couple of links crammed into the chamber. How it had managed to do that, Jack had absolutely no idea. Either way it was funny as hell to watch Mark beat his brains out trying to unjam the weapon. As he wiped down the exterior of the M1A's upper receiver he listened to the heated argument going on behind him as Natasha, Drew, Chris, and Craig poured over a map of the city.

"Listen I'm not saying that her people aren't in a tight spot." Drew was gesturing wildly as he tried to make his point. This "Discussion" had been going on for nearly an hour now. "All I'm saying is that there is no feasible way to get them out. It's too much of a risk for us AND them to try and pull them out of there and transport over a _hundred_ civilians through Riker infested territory. That's not even considering what might happen if the LMB get wind of it."

"Oh well _thank you _for _ever so graciously _admitting that my people are in a bit of a jam." Natasha even mock curtsied when she said that. "But I don't give a flying fuck. Everything you can imagine that we need, we're running low on, if we haven't already run out of it. I have people dying due to lack of medication. Last week somebody died because they cut their foot. Fucking infection. This is what I'm talking about! If we'd had penicillin she'd still be alive! But Nooooo you can't be bothered to risk your ass for the sake of someone else."

"Can't be bothered? CAN'T BE BOTHERED? Let me fucking tell you something…."

It kind of deteriorated from there. Jack finished assembling the rifle and returned it to the rifle rack. Bending over he picked up a steel bar used to secure the rifles to the rack and pushed it down the barrel of the Mk19 until it hit the end of the jammed casing. Picking up a discarded three-pound hammer, he hit the protruding end of the bar and with a hollow ringing noise, popped the casing out of the breech.

"You might have done that an hour ago you know?" Mark muttered disgruntledly.

"What and deprive myself of the quality entertainment you were providing? Not on your life." Jack said grinning. Leaving the weapons cage, Jack walked over to the arguing group where it looked like Natasha and Andrew were about two seconds from a full on brawl. Slamming his palm down on a nearby work bench he halted the argument with a yell.

"Alright that's enough!" Every head turned to look at him as he approached the group. "I'm going to put a halt to this argument right now. It's really, very simple. We're getting her people out. End of discussion." When Drew looked to be drawing himself up to argue Jack cut him off "I said _end of discussion._ We've been lucky thus far. We haven't had to worry about medication or where our next meal was going to come from. This was the entire reason we started doing this. To help these people. So, let's stop talking about whether or not we should help them and start figuring out how. Now Natasha, how many people are we talking about?"

She flashed him a grateful look and said "Including the non-combatants, 157 plus myself. "

Jack had to stop from choking as he heard how many people he had just committed himself to rescuing. He saw Drew grinning out of the corner of his eye. He didn't see how it would be possible. Twenty or thirty he could work with. Damn near 200 was a completely different story. However, he had already said he would do it. He couldn't be seen to change his mind on a decision in front of the people who were counting on him. A leader was allowed to make wrong decisions, so long as he _made_ a decision and stuck with it.

"Well I'll admit I was hoping for a smaller number than that but we can work with it. How many vehicles do you have?" This was crucial Jack knew. There was no way they'd be able to get them all out on foot and it was impossible to airdrop the size and number of vehicles they'd need to move that many people.

"I've got three MILCOTS and six MSVS plus a handful of looted civilian vehicles. There's enough trucks there to get everyone out. I was _trying_ to say that before mister ball buster over here cut me off." She threw another glare at Drew as she finished. Drew took a step toward her and Jack stepped in between them.

"Knock it off you two. If you want to kick the shit out of each other There's a boxing ring in the gym but that comes _later_. Now MILCOTs aren't too bad, they're light and fast and we can work with that. The MSVS on the other hand is basically a giant bullet magnet. We'll need to come up with a work around."

That was the real problem with the MSVS. They'll carry around 24 people each in the back of the truck but the only thing between them and the bullets being shot at them is a bit of canvas. They had to find a way to cover the ten kilometers of completely hostile territory with minimal casualties.

"Ok this is what we're going to do. For tonight, we're going to attempt to make contact with her people. Then we're all going to get some sleep and escort Ms. Blake back in the morning. After that it's all a matter of figuring out how to get over a hundred and fifty people from there to here without getting them all killed." It sounded a lot easier in his head to be honest.

An hour later Jack found himself drawn by the sound of cheering coming from the gym. Walking in he saw what seemed to be the entire combat staff standing around the boxing ring cheering as Tash and Drew circled each other. They were both pouring sweat as they eyed each other through their fingerless grappling gloves. Drew was stripped down to a pair of grey shorts which displayed his muscled physique gained from daily workouts. Tash was similarly stripped down to a pair of black running shorts and a sports bra. She must have borrowed them from Trish as she was the only one that could come close to her size. Her hair was pulled back in a tight pony tail and she looked focused as she slapped away Drew's jab. Jack knew from his own sparring sessions that Drew was good. While boxing wasn't his forte he was good enough to pose a challenge to anyone who wasn't a professional. Allow him to use elbows, knees, and kicks and he was damn near unstoppable.

Which was why Jack was so surprised when Natasha caught the roundhouse kick that drew sent at her head. It was a vicious kick and would have knocked her out cold if it had landed but instead she blocked it with her forearm and wrapped the arm around his leg. With his leg pinned he was unable to stop the uppercut she landed to the back of his thigh and the follow through backhand to the jaw.

He did manage to wrench his leg away and put some distance between the two of them. But it was clear that it hurt to stand on. Tash didn't give him a moment to breath however as she tried to hit him in the midsection with a running knee. He managed to slap it down with both hands and counter with a push kick to her chest.

Jack was surprised to see her stumble back and actually fall from the force of the kick. Drew was on her instantly, on his knees between her legs, raining blows down on her head and body. She was blocking them as best she could but some of them were still getting through. Right when it seemed like she was done however she managed to grab onto his right arm as it extended for a blow and clamp it to her chest. Quickly twisting her body towards his left knee she moved so fast that she almost seemed boneless as she whipped her left leg over his head and across his neck.

Drew moved frantically to counter the armbar, grasping his hands together to prevent her from getting the leverage she needed. But his grip was slipping. Five seconds later his hands shot apart and he landed flat on his back with the two of them in the classic T shape of an armbar. Two seconds later with three quick taps to her leg it was all over. Jack saw Craig grudgingly pass a pack of smokes over to a grinning Shepard before turning around and walking out in disgust. Probably to go find Krista.

The two had been nearly inseparable ever since he came back. Apparently, he had kept her company last night while Jack was missing and that combined with the kiss before they left had definitely started something. What that something was everyone could only guess but Jack was content to leave them alone about it as long as everyone did their job.

Walking back up into the main house, Jack stopped to grab a cup of coffee before heading over to Wonderland. Natasha had provided them with several phone numbers that would put him in touch with her second in command. The only problem thus far had been getting their phones to work. Jack had his suspicions that something was actively jamming all cell towers on the island.

The USB stick that Natasha had given them had proven to be a godsend. It contained evidence of not only the atrocities that had occurred in the last few months, but evidence linking the Last Man Battalion to the massacre in Port Hardy that kick started the evacuation. That, plus the documents that Krista had uncovered would point the blame squarely at both the Canadian and American governments. Which was why Jack was now sitting at the unoccupied terminal in Wonderland, coffee next to him, furiously typing his way through signal frequencies, attempting to find the source of the jamming signal. If they could just get through, they'd be able to send this information packet to every major news outlet in North America. All they could hope for was that the Last Man Battalion, and by extension the government, didn't know what they possessed.

"Hey Boss, I'm getting some weird resonances in the ultra high band. From around 800MHz all the way up to 10GHz." Anni was standing behind him on her pedestal. She appeared to be typing on a floating keyboard with dark narrow rectangular framed glasses perched on the end of her nose. Today she had long black curly hair pulled into a pony tail with the sides shaved. It gave her the appearance of having a large crest or mane flowing down her back. He was positive he had seen a hairstyle like that somewhere before but couldn't place it. She was wearing a tight fitting black t-shirt with a picture of two girls facing each other in school uniforms holding knives. Above the picture was the word "Alexisonfire". Like the girls on the T-shirt she was wearing a grey plaid skirt that stopped about five inches above her knees and knee length black socks.

He had questioned her once on her choice of appearance and she had immediately turned into a 400lb balding man dressed in an ill fitting, grease stained fairy princess costume.

"Would you rather I looked like this?" Her feminine Irish brogue mixed with the overweight neckbearded cosplayer she had turned into was decidedly unsettling. When Jack indicated that he would rather she didn't do that ever again, they let the subject drop and it was never mentioned again.

Now however she was scanning through radio frequencies attempting to discover the cause of their loss of signal.

"What do you mean by resonances?" Jack asked as he attempted to gain satellite access. They had lost access to their satellite coverage the moment that the internet had gone down.

"I mean exactly that. I can't quite place it. It's like some kind of feedback loop. Only in the higher frequencies though. Cellphones, Wi-Fi, that sort of thing."

"So pretty much anything that would have the juice to leave the island." Jack said as he gave up attempting to connect to the satellite. "Jammers then. It would have to be on a massive scale to be able to jam the entire high end of the band. You think the LMB has that kind of tech?"

"Normally Boss, I'd say no, but given who is footing the bill for their death squads? Christ, who knows?"

If the LMB had managed to completely jam any incoming or outgoing signals, that meant that any shot they had of exposing what was happening on the island was impossible until they found the source of the signal and destroyed it.

"Can you ask Natasha to come in here? We need another way of contacting her people."

"Sure thing Boss"

"Fuck my face hurts" It wasn't exactly the most elegant thing Natasha had ever said but it certainly was accurate. Andrew had gotten in a few good shots near the beginning of their match, he was faster than she had thought, but she had eventually beaten him. Now she stood under the spray of a rainfall shower head, letting the hot water soak into her abused muscles. It was in one of two "public" Bathrooms in the house. Public, being that it wasn't directly attached to a bedroom though it looked like it would fit right in in the home of a rich plastic surgeon. Turning off the water she stepped out and began toweling herself off. Looking in the mirror she gave herself a once over. Her curly black hair hung down in wet ringlets to below her shoulder blades. A lifetime of an active lifestyle had kept her looking fit and muscular while retaining the curves she had inherited from her mother. Her brown eyes looked back at her as she inspected the massive bruise that spread from her right shoulder all the way down to her ribs. The drugs the Doc had given her had reduced the pain of her cracked ribs from a throb to a mild ache. Damn that Jack for making them jump off a roof. He had come out of that unscathed, she however had three cracked ribs and honestly her breasts still hurt from landing on her front. That was one thing she hadn't inherited from her family. She was the only D cup on her mothers side and quite honestly they were more of a pain in the ass than anything else.

Snapping herself out of her self-conscious introspection she examined the newly forming bruise on her jaw. Drew had one hell of a right cross she had to hand it to him.

As she finished toweling off and began to work on her hair, Anni came over the house P.A. system.

"Miss Lucas could you come up to Wonderland please?" Her Irish lilt tinting the words

"Yeah I'll be up in a minute" Abandoning the towel, she tied her hair up into a simple bun and after rewrapping her ribs with a tensor bandage, got dressed into the clothing Jack had provided for her. The black cargo pants, white tank top, and black athletic jacket were simple and utilitarian but they fit well and they were extremely comfortable. Pulling on the black 5.11 combat boots, she noticed a theme. The clothing was all comfortable but would be durable and practical in a firefight. All she'd need to do was throw on a plate carrier and grab a rifle and shed be good to go. Nobody else dressed like this but then again they all had that fancy armour with quite specific clothing requirements underneath. Throwing her soiled clothing and towel into a nearby laundry hamper she climbed the stairs to the top floor. It really was a beautiful house she thought to herself as she looked at all the exposed beams of raw timbers. Stopping at the coffee urn she poured herself a cup. Apparently since they started taking in strays that urn was kept full and ready. The civilians that Jack had rescued were downstairs living in one of the smaller rooms until large mod tents and heaters could be brought from Natasha's people.

With her mug of coffee in hand she walked over towards the large steel door that stood out of place from the rest of the décor. The Stainless steel "WONDERLAND" set above the doorframe proclaimed that she was in the right place. Walking through the open door she found Jack sitting behind one of the consoles, his muscular frame highlighted by the green glow coming from the screen and keyboards as he navigated a world of code and binary. Next to him on her pedestal stood Anni wearing a schoolgirl skirt and socks and an Alexisonfire T-shirt. Not a bad one either, from their first album. Her hair, shaved into it's crest quite frankly made her look like Christy Mack the pornstar. Kind of slutty even for her from what she had heard. She doubted Jack had even noticed. She was discovering that that man was capable of tuning everything else out when he was faced with a problem. Everything like a computer program trying to get his attention with her appearance. She growled a bit at that thought but had absolutely no idea why it angered her. Sure the very idea of Anni was a little weird but she had handled weird before. She'd have to think about it later however. Jack was looking up at her. He was still wearing the bloodstained clothes from the night before. He had a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose and from the look, and smell, he hadn't showered since he had gotten back.

"Cellphones and Wi-Fi are being Jammed" he said by way of greeting. Fuck, that was a problem. How the hell were they supposed to make contact with the outside world without them.

"That's a fucking problem. Got any solutions?" Right to the point Natasha, classy.

"Well a jammer with that large of a signal would require one hell of a power source. Probably a large generator. Which would be relatively easy to find except that with no Internet, we can't connect to the satellite. I've got Anni combing through old footage right now trying to see if we panned across anything that fits the bill. So far, bupkus."

"No, it wouldn't be in old footage" Natasha knew that if Jack's people had missed the LMB's entire deployment then there was almost no chance that they would have happened to have seen it.

"I'm pretty sure its down at the docks. That's where they came aground. They commandeered a ferry and used it to shuttle their personnel and equipment to the island. I'll bet you damn near anything that's where the signal jammer is. When I can get back to my people I'll send out a recce team. They can get close, see what's there and take some pictures."

"That sounds like a plan" Jack said nodding along "Now the only problem is getting in touch. Without cellphones, I don't know how we'll talk to them. I don't suppose you have radios."

"We do actually" We use 522 manpacks to keep in touch with patrols. Reception is shit so they generally have to climb to a rooftop to make contact but it works. I doubt you'd be able to reach them from here though. They're underground remember."

"Oh, I'm sure between me, Jack, and Anni we can figure something out." Krista said from behind her. Turning around she saw her leaning back into Craig's arms, the big man dwarfing her as he held her.

"Well then," Jack said standing up. "Let's get to work"

Jury-rigging the 522 radio from the MILCOT as it turned out wasn't all that hard. Jack ended up having to splice an antenna from his existing arrays and feed it into the radio. Powering it was even easier all the cable ends he needed were already in the truck. He did end up having to run a cable all the way out to his power transformers in order to amplify the signal enough but he made it work.

The hard part was when Natasha told him that since they didn't have crypto they had needed to set their radios to start frequency hopping. Basically instead of broadcasting on a signal frequency which can be easily found and then jammed, It causes the radio signal to sort of 'fall' through various frequencies in a random order. It means that instead of an enemy being able to listen in on a transmission they _might_ be able to hear a second or two of a broadcast and then have to scramble to try and find it again. Because of how it functioned, frequency hopping is tightly controlled and restricted with most militaries using cryptographic devices to scramble transmissions. Of course, given the current circumstances Jack didn't give two shits about what was and wasn't legal.

After he finally finished configuring the radio he had Natasha enter in the proper codes. When no error messages came up she put on the headset and keyed the PTT switch.

"Base One this is Rogue Leader radio check over." Jack gave a slight chuckle at the Star Wars reference as he looked over at her. She stood there looking as tense as Jack had ever seen her. There was every possibility that they had changed the configuration after she went missing. If they had they'd never get in contact with them and they would never get inside the base.

"_Rogue Leader this is Base One Loud and Clear Over!" _Jack had rigged the radio to also play over the speakers within Wonderland so he was able to hear the excitement in the radio operators voice as she continued.

"_We thought you were dead Ma'am! It's fucking good to hear from you." _The operator sounded young and her voice was definitely loosing the normal bored tone expected when using the radio.

"You too" Natasha was grinning from ear to ear as she responded "Listen Base One we need to keep this short. I'll be coming in tomorrow. You remember our southern cousins birthday?" What? Jack officially had no idea what she was talking about anymore.

"_Uh… Yeah I think so." _To be fair the operator on the other end sounded just as confused.

"Good" Tash said grinning at Jack. "We'll see you then Rogue Leader out"

Tash took off the headset and turned to Jack her grin splitting her face.

"What was all that about the southern cousins birthday?" Obviously it was a code for something but what it was Jack couldn't figure out.

"Birthday of the US Army, June 14 1775 or alternately 7. 14. 1775" She was still grinning like an idiot.

"7:14, you just told them what time we'd be at the door?" He was honestly stunned. It would have taken him a while to make that connection.

"Yep I knew Emily the operator would make the connection. We'd been talking about it before I left."

With that sorted they cleaned up the mess of wires that Jack had created and strode out of Wonderland Krista slipping in after them to reclaim her domain. He walked her down the stairs to one of the basement rooms feeling strangely reluctant to have her sleep so far away from him.

"Anyway this is you. It's not much but it should do for the night." It really wasn't, not compared to the rest of the rooms in the house. The basement rooms were more utilitarian than the rest. Much closer to hotel rooms than bedrooms in a house with a large communal bathroom at the end of the hall next to the laundry room.

"Not much? Fuck Jack this is bigger than my apartment." She was looking at him like he had two heads. Had he said something weird again?

"Well anyway if you need anything I'll either be in my room or in the shop. Ask Anni and she can wake me up. Get some sleep." With that he left her and went back upstairs.

Hours later found him in the small paint shop located off the side of the main work area. He had all the right shoulder pads off of the TITAN II's and was painstakingly stenciling and then spray painting on the logo from the patch on his jacket. Call it silly if you will but it was nice to have an emblem. It made it feel like they were more of a unified group not just a bunch of people living and working together. Above the Logo on each went the owners last name and below was their blood type and any known allergies. Service numbers didn't mean anything to them any more and besides he didn't want to give away that much information. As he finished the last one he wasn't sure how well it would be received. Knowing her it would probably just piss her off but as he put the last spray of sealer over it he felt better knowing it might keep her safe. Written on the pad around the near day glow white eagle were the words "BLAKE O POS PCN ALLERGY" All information the Doc had provided for him but probably piss her off even more. Ah well can't please them all.

With the paint dry he began reattaching the shoulder pads to the armour. Natasha's he attached while wincing a little as he thought of what fitting her armour would be like. In order to get a proper fit while still remaining largely one size fits most, he had needed to create a new type of shock foam. Inside each set of armour was a layer of "liquid" foam. As each piece of armour was cranked into place on a fresh suit it would slowly compress until it formed to the body wearing it where it would then set in place. The process took about two minutes and was extremely uncomfortable. It only had to be done once and once it was nobody else could wear your armour comfortably. The torso was the worst as it made it feel like you were suffocating. While the female model of the armour did allow extra room in the chest, Natasha like Tricia, wasn't exactly built small and The Doc had told him that fitting her armour had been a special kind of hell.

After then last pad had been attached and he had laid out a bodysuit for her, Jack walked back up to the main kitchen and grabbed himself a beer. There wasn't a lot so he like to save and savour them. Race Rocks Ale, It was a local craft beer and one of his favourites. He sat back in one of the armchairs and looked into the fire burning away in the fireplace as he started his drink.

Downstairs Natasha was pissed. She couldn't sleep and she knew damn well why. Not that she'd admit it. After tossing around for the umpteenth time she sat up glaring up through floor to where she knew Jack was. He was up there and not down here. It was that simple. She had fallen asleep in his arms the night before and now she couldn't and it was all his fucking fault.

"God dammit Tash you're a big girl not a fucking moonstruck fourteen year old. You can go to sleep by yourself. You've been doing it for years and one goddamn night in a shot up building isn't going to change that." She wasn't an innocent she had slept with men before, hell she had almost been married once. That hadn't taken thank god. Fucker had slept with a friend of hers. But with Jack it was different and she didn't even know why. He was quiet, calm and sarcastic when she usually went for the exact opposite. Last night had been the furthest thing from romantic and she spent half the time trying to figure out if she should just shoot him herself but now… now she knew she wasn't going to get a minute of sleep unless he was there and he could go fuck himself for that. In the morning though.

She weighed the choices in her head. Put aside her pride and severe embarrassment and ask a virtual stranger to sleep next to her. Or keep quiet and stay up all night. Unfortunately if there was one thing that was sacred to her it was sleep.

Pride Lost.

Getting up she padded over to the dresser wearing just her tank top and underwear and searched through the drawers until she found a soft wool cardigan among the bland gender neutral clothing. It was long enough to go down to her knees and was the only thing that didn't look like it had been placed there for any occasion. She was assuming it had been ordered for someone specific in the house and had been placed here by mistake. Their loss she supposed as she shrugged it on, wincing as her ribs shot a flare of pain at her. She shook out her messy curls and wrapped the soft wool around her as she made her way upstairs to where she knew Jack would be.

Jack sighed as he drained the last of his ale from the glass contemplating having another. It was made on the Island, before the Purge, and probably would never be made again. Still it was quite good.

A sound from behind him made him abandon his musings on beer to look around to see Natasha walking towards him with an unsure look on her face. Her hair was mussed up from sleep and she was wearing one of Krista's many cardigans and from the looks of things not a whole lot else. She looked good, really good. It was unnerving however to see her looking so unsure of herself. Her arms were crossed tightly under her breasts and she looked like she was two seconds away from bolting back downstairs. Jack watched her, not moving, not wanting to spook her as she seemed to wrestle with something in her head. Finally, she nodded to herself almost imperceptibly and sat down on a couch near him. She stared into the fire, not speaking for a long time until finally without looking at him she said "I couldn't sleep"

Her arms were still crossed and her legs were curled up underneath her as she continued. "And I think – no I _know_ it's because you weren't there. I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I'll cut your balls off if you try anything but do you think- could… could you sleep next to me?"

Jack was quite frankly flabbergasted. Here was this titan of a woman, who had spent a night calmly and methodically executing people alongside him, telling him she didn't want to spend the night alone. His shock must have shown on his face because she got a panicked look on her face and got up to leave. Before she could get past him his hand shot out and gently grabbed her by the wrist. Their eyes locked as he got up letting go of her. He placed his glass in the sink and retook her hand pulling her along behind him to his bedroom.

Neither one of them spoke a word as they got ready for bed. Jack stripped down to his boxers and Natasha simply removed the cardigan, draping it over his desk chair. He intentionally stopped himself from staring at the legs that seemed to go on for miles. Christ she had to be one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

He pulled back the heavy duvet from the king-sized bed and climbed in. He grinned to himself when he felt the mattress depress as she climbed in after him. He turned around and pulled her into his arms. They both lay on their sides facing each other as she tucked her head in under his chin.

She was asleep in minutes

"No, no fucking way. There is not a hope in hell that I am strapping myself into that. Not If you don't have a set ready for each and every one of the people under my command." Tash was unsurprisingly pissed that Jack had readied a set of armour for her.

He had woken that morning to find the bed next to him empty. He couldn't say he wasn't surprised but we was faintly disappointed. The cardigan was also missing as he quickly scanned his room.

"She left about an hour ago boss. It's currently 5:14 AM" Anni's Irish lilt came from the speaker next to his bed. Her voice sounded almost… bitter?

"Everything OK Anni?" Jack was wondering if he'd have to run a diagnostic on her to find any bugs in her personality matrix.

"Oh Just peachy" yep definitely something wrong with her. He didn't have time to worry about it now though as he climbed out of bed and pulled on his new bodysuit. He had needed to fit himself another set of armour last night and his lungs still ached remembering it. Striding out of his room to the kitchen he found Natasha sitting at the island counter with a cup of coffee in her hands. She smiled at him for just a second as she looked over and then went back to talking to Maria in the kitchen. Maria was the wife of the man who had tried to stab him with a kitchen knife what felt like days ago. She was cooking something that smelled amazing as her husband Robert played with their daughter Julia in the living room. Even with only a couple of meals in them they looked better. Jack slid onto the stool next to Natasha and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Sleep well?" he asked unable to keep the grin off of his face.

"Yes. No thanks to you buy the way. You snore." She was also smiling.

Jack raised his hand to his chest wrist limp looking affronted. "I do not!"

Tash simply rolled her eyes and took another sip of her coffee.

"I have a surprise for you" Jack said as he stood up

That led to a screaming match unlike anything he had participated in in a long time. He saw it as being quite simple. She was a commander and a tactical asset. She required extra protection. The fact that he also cared about her had nothing to do with it. He had the resources to keep her alive and she should use them.

She saw it quite differently. As she put it, if she 'strapped herself into his cyborg suit' she'd be setting herself apart from her people. They would see her as one of Jack's followers instead of the woman who had brought them together.

This concept was of course completely lost on Jack and they argued back and forth until they finally settled on Tash wearing the helmet and SKORPIAN plate carrier that Jack had worn on the trip up island. She grumbled about the helmet, apparently preferring to wear her faded UVic Vikes ballcap but Jack refused to bend.

With the matter tentatively settled, they separated to don their gear. It was strange how different and yet similar his new set of armour felt. It felt the same and yet at the same time small things like joints and servos were stiffer and firmer than he was used to. Different and yet the same.

The one thing that hadn't changed however was the action on his SCAR-H. It was smooth and well oiled as he loaded and readied the weapon. Striding over he placed the rifle in the weapons rack next to the driver's seat and heaved his nearly 400lb bulk into the cockpit of the recce vehicle. The heavy shocks barely even noticed his presence. He felt the vehicle dip to the rear as Craig climbed up behind the gun. He listened to the sounds of Craig opening the feed tray cover and loading a belt of the heavy .50 BMG or Browning Machine Gun ammo. The joke about fifty caliber ammunition is that at ten bucks a round, the sound of the weapon firing was actually the _ca-ching ca-ching ca-ching _of an old cash register. The standard box of .50 BMG linked, held 100 rounds costing roughly $1000. The box that Craig was loading held 300 rounds and could be completely fired in just under 20 seconds. $3000 gone in 20 seconds. Being a warlord isn't cheap apparently.

His musings on the cost of running his own private military were cut short as Natasha climbed into the passenger seat next to him grumbling the whole time about the helmet that she had strapped on. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun and she had a scarf wrapped over her face to keep the dust and smoke out. She had wasted no time in customizing the SKORPIAN vest to her preference. She had it worn over the tight fitting athletic jacket and had managed to find a pair of tight fitting jeans from somewhere, doing away with the cargo pants he had given her. The black suede 511 combat boots were still on her feet however. The vest had been changed from Jack's layout. Where he preferred to keep his mags high on his chest, she had them slung low across her abdomen. With two mags per pouch, she was carrying a full combat load of ten mags plus one in her rifle. Her C7 was resting in between her knees with the barrel pointing at the floor as she held on to the grip loosely with one gloved hand. Jack found it humorous that she still had that massive .357 Colt King Kobra strapped to her right thigh in a tan MOLLE holster. Mark had almost had a fight on his hands when he tried to make her turn the weapon into the armoury when she arrived at the house. Jack had had to step in to convince her to surrender the weapon. He had spied her checking the spot it had been several times after the incident.

His eyes were strangely drawn to the bare patch of skin on her wrist between jacket sleeve and black combat glove when she lifted a pair of Oakleys onto her face. With her features now completely obscured she turned to him and nodded. They were ready to go.

With a word to Anni the garage door lifted and the big war cat's engine roared as they accelerated out of the vehicle bay and down the driveway.

Brian Moss was in pain. He didn't know why or even where he was. He just knew that he hurt. The back of his head was throbbing in a way that made him think there was at least one if not two morbidly obese people jumping up and down inside his skull.

He tried to gather himself and figure out what had happened to him thought he pounding coming from the back of his skull was making that difficult. He had been out on a rescue mission with the commander. He knew that the JTF had discovered where the Rikers had been keeping kidnapped girls. They had gone to rescue them and had found someone else taking a beating in the kitchen's walk in refrigerator. He had been the last one out of the building and then… Nothing. From the pounding, he guessed he had been hit over the head with something heavy. He also had to surmise that he was hanging from his wrists given the ache in his shoulders and how numb his hands were. He could taste blood in his mouth and he couldn't see. He had a moment of panic when he tried to open his eyes and saw nothing. It wasn't until he realized that he was smelling old oil and burlap that he understood there was a bag over his head.

Taking stock, he knew that he had been captured by someone. Most likely Rikers but not necessarily. He was hanging by his wrists but his feet could touch the ground. Not enough to fully support his weight but he could stand on his toes. There was a bag and possibly a blindfold over his face. From the echo of water dripping from a rusty pipe he had to assume he was somewhere big. Probably an old warehouse or something of the like.

Before he was able to try and think anymore about his situation, He heard footsteps approaching. Strangely enough it sounded like whoever it was was wearing high heeled hoes from the _tap tap tap_ of their gate. A woman then. The tapping stopped in front of him and seemed to examine him for a moment before resuming to walk around behind him. The tapping stopped again and this time it seemed to take hours before suddenly the sound of an electric guitar started blasting from somepoint behind him. The music was so loud and sudden that he actually jumped in surprise causing a fresh wave of pain from his head and wrists. It took him a moment to realize that there were words coming through the blasting noise.

_I am an anti-Christ_

_I am an anarchist_

_Don't know what I want_

_But I know how to get it_

_I want to destroy the passerby_

_Cause I want to BE anarchy_

The Sex Pistols? Really? That's what they were going with? Something seemed off about it however. He didn't know if it was that the song had been sped up or slowed down but it seemed to flow wrong. It took him roughly five minutes to realize that the song had actually started over again without him realizing it. Due to whatever distortion they had laid on the track it was virtually impossible to use as a method of telling time. He'd just have to be patient and wait. He just wished that the music wasn't so damned loud.

They had driven through the city at Natasha's direction taking several seemingly random turns until suddenly they found themselves parked in front what appeared to be a generic roll up garage door. The sign above it proclaimed that it was a maintenance vehicle entrance belonging to Greater Nanaimo Pollution Control Centre. Apparently it led under the city to some of the main sewage pipes. Jack cut the engine as she walked up to the steel door set next to the larger vehicle entry.

Getting out of the vehicle he pulled his rifle free and dropped to one knee facing outward in a defensive posture as Tash pounded three times on the door, waited a two count and then knocked softer twice more. Craig was scanning left and right with the big chain gun's turret making a soft whirring noise every time he rotated it.

Jack glanced behind him at the sound of the door opening and saw a short woman maybe seventeen or eighteen on the other side get wrapped up in a hug from Tash.

"Emily!" she exclaimed. "You have no idea how good it is to see you again." Emily was surprisingly short. Not necessarily as short as Jess but definitely no taller than 5'5". She had a round face that was split in a wide smile and wavy brown hair with a red streak in it. She looked like she could be someone's kid sister. Her blue eyes widened as she looked behind Tasha's masked face to see Jack and Craig behind her. Her mouth dropped open when she realized what vehicle Craig was standing in. She stepped back from the full body hug and addressed everyone;

"Let's get you inside. There's a lot of people who would love to talk to you all."


End file.
